Stupid, Stupid Love
by jmp22895
Summary: Romano decides he never wants to fall in love. Heck, who would love him back anyway? But Spain, hearing Romano's plight, decides to help Romano find love! ...oh wait...
1. Tomato

There was a soft thud as Romano flopped across his couch, staring up at the ceiling lazily. He felt his stomach rumble and started nibbling on the large red tomato that he was holding. After about a minute of watching a spider crawl across the ceiling, he sighed in annoyance, bored out of his mind.

His hair was messy, his eyes dull, and he was wearing his trademark scowl. Today, as he had for the past several months, he was directing his scowl at a certain blond German sitting silently next to him. Germany, of course, was ignoring him, the way _he_ had for the past several months. He was staring blankly at the TV, with a rigid look that assured Romano that he was watching him closely out of the corner of his eye. Romano could tell he felt as unhappy about sitting next to Romano as Romano felt.

Romano scowled harder and started violently gnawing on the tomato again. It wasn't that he hated the German, it was that…no…no wait, that was exactly it. He loathed the German. Hated everything about him, from the food he ate to his stiff personality. He could not imagine why anyone would ever remotely like the horrible bastard in the first place.

"I finished making dinner everyone!" A cheery voice called from the next room. "Ve~ I hope you like pasta~!"

Romano cringed at the sound of his brother's voice. Italy, of course, had the opposite idea about the German. Actually, Italy and Germany had been dating for about two months. Which was why Germany and Romano were stuck together in Romano's living room, both pretending that the other didn't exist.

Italy skipped into the room, humming happily. He paused when he noticed the half-eaten tomato hanging out of his brother's mouth. "Romano, why are you already eating?" He whined, suddenly distressed. "I thought we could all eat together today!"

Romano glared at him. "Give me one good reason why I'd ever want to eat dinner with an idiot and a fat-ass who smells like potatoes?"

"Romano that's not nice!" Italy protested. "Germany isn't fat!" He walked over and started trying to pull Romano to his feet. "Please, fratello? Per favore? You promised!"

"No I didn't," Romano snapped back. "I'd never agree to something so stupid."

("Why is it that you don't protest against me smelling like potatoes…?" Germany mumbled, more to himself than Italy.)

"Ve~ but you said you couldn't imagine anything better to do with your life on a Saturday evening than to spend it with me and Germany." Italy gave him an innocent smile. Romano glared at him.

Germany stood up and strode over to Italy. "Listen, Italy, it's not that big of a deal. I, uh, don't mind it being just the two of us." He shrugged, a telltale blush appearing on his face. "Actually, it'd be nice, just the two of us…" He gave Italy one of his rare, nervous smiles.

Italy blushed slightly and giggled. "Okay, Germany!" He replied happily. He stood on his tiptoes and kissed the corner of Germany's mouth. Germany blushed even harder and leaned closer, wrapping his arms around Italy's waist, and gently kissed him back.

Suddenly, something collided with the side of Germany's head.

Germany yelped. He stood there stiffly for a second, then slowly reached up to wipe away the splattered remains of the tomato covering most of his face. He turned to look at the Italian lying on the couch next to him.

Romano gave a lazy yawn. "Damn it, you stupid potato-bastard, you made me drop my tomato."

"Romano!" Italy reprimanded, crossing his arms as if he was a parent chastising a child (but only ended up making himself look like he was pouting). "That wasn't very nice."

Romano rolled his eyes. "Idiota, I don't give a shit. And I'm not eating dinner with the potato bastard either. I'd rather starve."

"But Romano, I made pasta!" Italy protested. Romano ignored him. Italy grabbed his arm. "Please, Romano? Pretty please?" When that tactic didn't seem to do anything, Italy turned toward Germany. "Germany…" he pleaded, tears in his eyes.

Germany sighed. "Italy, I can think of three good reasons why we should just leave him. One of which is starting to burn my eyes…" He turned and walked into the kitchen to rinse his eyes out, rubbing them with an annoyed grimmace.

Italy looked from Germany to his brother. He sighed. "Ve~ I'm sure the two of you could be friends if you wanted…" he murmured sadly.

Romano rolled over so his back was facing them. "Bastardo."

Italy pouted and walked into the kitchen, sniffling slightly and wiping his eyes.

Romano scowled. His brother was quite possibly the most obnoxious idiot he'd ever met. The potato came in a close second. He crossed his arms and shut his eyes. He could hear the two of them start giggling like idiots in the other room. He glanced up to see them cuddling in the kitchen, the larger German with his arms wrapped snugly around the blushing Italian.

Romano rolled his eyes and looked away, scowl returned twofold. _Bastards,_ he thought bitterly. He still wasn't sure why he'd ever let the German bastard get even remotely close to his younger brother. Maybe he'd been hoping that his brother would be less obnoxious if he wasn't crying about Germany not liking him for hours at a time.

Oh _God_ was he wrong about that.

There was another giggle from the kitchen. Romano glanced up long enough to see them kissing in the other room. Romano gagged and turned away. _Hell, I'm never going to fall in love, _he decided silently._ It's stupid._ He shut his eyes smugly. _Never in a million years…_ Not like he could imagine ever falling in love with anyone of course.

…Or anyone loving him for that matter…

Nope, he didn't need love. He didn't need anyone to hug him or kiss him or spend time with him or call him cute or anything. Definitely not. That obnoxious shit was for Veneziano, not him.

Romano glared back up at the other two. Germany was still _molesting_ his brother's face, caressing his cheek and running his other hand over the small of Italy's back. Romano narrowed his eyes and bit his thumb at them. Since they didn't notice, he reached down, scooped a plastic gun from under the couch, and fired at them a few times. Nothing came out. He rolled his eyes and pretended to fire the toy into his mouth.

Something hard collided with the back of Romano's throat. He froze and retched violently, tumbling off the couch. His face smacked against a table and a small marble fell out of his mouth. He stared at it for a second. "Merda," he spat, throwing the gun across the room. "Evil bastard. That'll show you, you…inanimate object…chigi!" He coughed angrily.

"Romano, are you okay?" A panicked voice asked suddenly. Romano stiffened. That voice…

Spain bent down in front of him. "¿Estás bien, Romano?" He asked, his bright green eyes practically radiating worry. "That looked kinda painful." He reached out and helped Romano back to his feet. He looked closely at the spot on Romano's face where he'd hit the table, brushing his fingers against the now-bruising skin.

Romano yanked his arm away and glared at the Spaniard. "Bastard, I don't need your help," he snapped. "And just what the hell are you doing here anyway?" He reached up and indignantly rubbed the bruise on his face, which, oddly enough, had stopped hurting nearly as much…

"Well, I picked some tomatoes from my garden this morning and I thought to myself 'who would want to try some of my homegrown tomatoes?' And I thought of Romano!" He smiled at Romano, holding up a basket overflowing with mouthwatering tomatoes. "¿Quieres un tomate?"

Romano stared at them, feeling his mouth start to water. Then he shook his head. "Bastard, why would I want to eat any of your stupid tomatoes?" He grumbled stubbornly.

Spain thought for a second. "Well, because you like tomatoes," he replied.

Romano paused his grumbling for a second. Well, it was true…but that didn't mean he wanted to eat with the bastard. "W-Well…Well I'm not hungry!" Romano declared.

His stomach let out a loud protest. They both glanced down at it. Spain smiled at him. "Well, your stomach says otherwise!" He laughed.

"S-Shut up bastard!" Romano stammered. He felt his face beginning to heat up. He stiffened and quickly turned away, trying to hide his reddening face before—

"Awww, Romano, you look so cute!" Spain cooed happily, suddenly wrapping Romano in a warm hug. "Just like a tomato!"

Romano's face got redder. "Get off of me, you bastard!" He shouted. "I'm not cute and I don't look anything like any of your damn tomatoes and _get off of me now_!"

Spain made a face. "But Romano, you _are_ cute," he protested, pouting slightly and hugging Romano closer. He pressed his face against Romano's cheek, smiling affectionately.

Romano froze, feeling his heart starting to hammer out of his chest and his face getting even redder. _W-What the…? _He thought weakly, through all of the static that had suddenly engulfed his thoughts. He couldn't breathe.

Spain continued, oblivious as always. "You are cute!" He insisted. "The way you always pout and your face gets all red…like a—"

"—like a freaking tomato, yeah I get it," Romano managed to interrupt. "N-Now get off." He squirmed away and pushed Spain back. "And men don't like being called cute. Bastard."

"But your brother likes being called cute!" Spain protested.

"…My point exactly…" Romano muttered darkly. Then he scowled at Spain. "And anyway, you should head home. My brother has his potato bastard over for dinner."

Spain blinked. "He does?" He asked.

Romano rolled his eyes. "Yes, you idiot, they're right over—" He turned and froze, realizing they had left while he and Spain were talking. "They're right over…um…" He peeked inside. "…right over…" He frowned and looked around. "The hell…?"

Spain gave him another small hug. "Well, since it's just the two of us, would you like some dinner?" He suggested, holding out the basket.

Romano glared up at him. After a moment he sighed. "Fine, sure. Bastard," he muttered. "But just 'cause I'm hungry," he added. He strode into the kitchen, grabbed some food off of the counter, sat down, and started violently shoving the food into his mouth. After a moment he muttered, "And hand me some of those tomatoes."

Spain smiled and handed him the basket. The two of them sat down at the table, Romano munching on the food and Spain smiling the way he usually did. "So, Italy and Germany were here earlier?" He laughed slightly. "Those two are so cute together, no?"

"Say that again and I shoot you," Romano replied with another scowl. After a moment, he sighed. "Those two are just idiots. Always hugging and shit. So annoying, damn it. I'm never gonna fall in love, that's for sure," he muttered, crossing his arms.

Spain grabbed his arm. "Don't think like that Romano!" He insisted. "I'm sure there's someone out there who would love you!"

Romano yanked his arm back. "Asshole, that's not what I meant," he growled angrily, narrowing his eyes. "I mean it just seems stupid. Love and all that shit just seems so stupid. I don't want to fall in love."

Spain thought about that for a moment, then smiled at him. "Come on Romano, Italy and Germany are so happy together!" He said. "How could something that makes people so happy be stupid?"

Romano rolled his eyes. "Well, _you're_ pretty stupid…" he mumbled.

Spain blinked, staring at him. Then a wide smile spread across his face. "So do I make you happy, Romano…?" He asked excitedly.

Romano froze. "_W-What?_" He stammered, his face turning even redder than the tomato he was eating. He stared at Spain for a moment. "W-W-When the f*cking hell did I say something like that, you bastard! Stop twisting my words around! F*cking bastard. Chigi…" He crossed his arms, glowering at him.

Spain's smile faltered. For a moment, he looked hurt. "O-Oh…" he murmured. He forced the smile back onto his face. "Okay," he replied brightly. "Lo siento, Romano."

Romano watched him for a moment, slightly startled by the reaction. He scowled and looked away. He felt a guilty pang in his chest. Spain was such a kind person. Romano had lived with him since he was a child. He was one of the few people that ever made him feel, well, like he was worth something, always compliment him, taking care of him, even after all the trouble he caused. And whenever Spain was actually hurt, he would never let someone see.

He didn't want to make the Spanish bastard sad; he just didn't want him getting the wrong idea. Or the right idea, for that matter. Spain _did_ make him feel happy. He'd never admit that to his face, but Spain was one of the only people…

Romano sighed and handed Spain a tomato. "I thought we were eating dinner, bastard. So far I'm the only one eating and you just keep watching me like a pervert."

Spain blinked, staring down at the red fruit. Then he smiled brightly at the small Italian glowering at him. "¡Gracias, Romano! You're so sweet."

Romano rolled his eyes and rested his head in his hand. "Yeah yeah, I'm a f*cking saint," he mumbled. "Just eat the tomato, damn it."

Spain started happily eating the ripe tomato, somehow managing to smile the entire time. Romano watched him for a second. How the hell could he be so damn happy every second of every day? Why was he so happy?

Not that Romano minded. He liked it when Spain was happy, how he'd always smile and say something encouraging and how he'd hold him and the way his emerald eyes seemed to glow with enthusiasm and his perfectly tanned body would bounce up and down like a little kid whenever he got excited and…and…

Romano blinked, realizing what he was thinking, and quickly shook his head. _The hell was all that shit? _He scolded himself silently.

"You sure you're okay, Romano?" Spain asked again, snapping him out of his thoughts. His eyes were full of concern again, an out-of-place frown on his face.

"Why the hell wouldn't I be?" Romano muttered back, his cheeks puffing out the way they did when he was annoyed. "My face feels fine, idiota. I'm not a baby anymore." He rubbed his cheek, idly wondering if it was bruising.

Spain looked closely at him. "I don't know…you're acting kind of strange. Are you feeling sick today?"

Romano rolled his eyes. _There he goes again, acting like he cares about my wellbeing, _he thought bitterly. "Maybe it's because all these idiots in my house are giving me a headache," Romano muttered.

Spain thought for a second. "Do you need some medicine?"

"I'm fine, bastard. I don't need your help. Go away." With that, Romano crossed his arms and turned away.

Spain sighed, knowing that he wouldn't be able to say anything to Romano to help. "Okay, Romano. Hasta luego, mi tomate." He slowly stood up and strode to the door, smiling when he saw Romano's cheeks flush again.

Italy waved at Spain as he strode outside. "Hi Spain!" He greeted. "Me and Germany went outside so you two could be alone!" He smiled.

Spain smiled back. "Thanks, Italy! How are you and Germany…?" He trailed off, noticing Romano glaring at them. "Erm, well, we can talk at your house, Germany. I'm headed over there to meet your brother for drinks!"

Germany sighed. "Wonderful…"

Spain smiled at him. "¡No te preocupes, mi amigo!" He replied, patting Germany's shoulder. "I won't get him too drunk!" The two started leaving. "¡Adios!" Spain called over his shoulder, waving.

Italy waved back. "Ciao! Arrivaderci! Ti amo, Germany!" He continued waving as the two drove off. As soon as they disappeared, he turned and smiled at his brother.

Romano glanced at him. "…What?" He muttered.

"Ve~ so how'd it go~?" He asked, leaning in close to him.

"How'd what go?" Romano asked, starting to get annoyed.

"Y'know…how'd it go with big brother Spain?"

Romano stared blankly at him for a second. "Huh…?" He thought for a second, confused. Then he turned red. ""W-W-What the hell is that supposed to mean!" He stammered, grabbing his brother's collar.

Italy yelped. "Eek, R-Romano I-I'm s-sorry d-don't h-hurt me!" He pulled a white flag out and started weakly waving it in front of Romano's face as he shook Italy back and forth.

Romano scowled and dropped him, trying to will away the redness of his face. "Shit…" he hissed. He turned and stormed back into the house.

He slammed the door to his room and flopped onto his bed. "Idiota," he murmured to himself. "I'd never like that bastardo. I don't like anyone. Don't need anyone hugging me and kissing me and spending time with me and calling me cute…" He trailed off, his face reddening as he realized that Spain did all that anyway.

With that odd thought in his head, he buried his face in his pillow.

* * *

><p><em>Hello, internet! I missed you!<em>

_Merda ~ shit (Italian)_

_¿Estás bien, Romano? __~ Are you alright, Romano? (Spanish)_

_¿Quieres un tomate? ~ Do you want a tomato? (Spanish)_

_Lo siento ~ I'm sorry (Spanish)_

_Hasta luego, mi tomate ~ See you later, my tomato (Spanish)_

_No te preocupes ~ Don't worry (Spanish)_

_Arrivaderci ~ See you (Italian)_

_Ti amo ~ I love you (Italian)_

_Biting your thumb in Italy is about the same as sticking up your middle finger in America. Not sure how many other places have these kinds of things. Feel free to correct me if I'm wrong._


	2. France's Idea

"Romano thinks love is stupid."

France blinked and looked up at Spain from over his drink. They were sitting in an old bar, hours after Spain and Germany had left Italy, doing what they did best. Namely, drinking until they forgot who they were and imposing their presence on as many people as they could physically manage before getting arrested.

France smirked ever so slightly. "Does 'e now," he answered, taking a sip of beer and grimacing ever so slightly. He preferred wine to beer, but seeing as they were in a German bar…

Spain shook his head, a shadow of a frown etched onto his face. "I can't understand why," he continued, staring into his mug. "I mean, look at how happy his brother is! And Germany, too! I've never seen him so happy before. How could Romano think that love is stupid?"

France just laughed. "Well, isn't zat obvious?" He asked airily. "'e is bitter and lonely! Of course ze thought of someone else being 'appy would make 'im angry. Well," he added as an afterthought, "angrier zen usual at ze least."

He took another drink, then glanced up. He was startled to notice Spain staring at him with a horrified look on his face. "T-That's horrible!" Spain said. "Poor Romano…" He turned back toward his drink. "And I was making him upset earlier, wasn't I? Oh, I should—"

"HEY!" Prussia shouted, causing them both to jump. Prussia, who had moments before been slumped unconscious next to them, was now swaying precariously on the stool. "H-Hey, I wasn' done complainin' 'b-bout my shit yet, ya arschlöcher!" He yelled indignantly, his speech slurring.

France and Spain glanced at each other. Then they turned toward Prussia, trying their best to look interested. "Erm, oui, Prussia?" France asked slowly.

"D'you know that West _still_ hasn't got laid yet?" Prussia said loudly, causing most of the bar to send him uncomfortable looks. He scowled and crossed his arms, not noticing. "I mean, seriously I'm starting to think that he's gonna die a virgin and all that shit! How un-awesome is that? Come on, they've been dating for a year…or a…" he paused, trying to remember how long they'd been dating. "Well, a while or something. Ja."

France raised an eyebrow, then took the time to continue talking with Spain. "Don't look too much into it, mon ami," he assured him. "Romano is just naturally bitter and lonely."

Spain looked disheartened. "But that's not right," he mumbled, drinking some more. "Poor Romano… I wish there was some way to help him…"

"Anyway, I keep tellin' him to just go ahead and do Italy already so Hungary'll stop bitchin' to me 'bout it but he keeps yellin' at me and shit and turning all red and I mean what the hell is his deal anyway? Dosn' he wanna get laid?" Prussia hiccupped. "An' here he spent like a month trying to go out with him and hell Italy sleeps naked in his bed almost every night anyway why doesn't he just lean over and…" He make several rude gestures with his hands.

France glanced at Prussia, then decided it was better to ignore him. "Spain, zat really isn't a big deal. 'e just…" France trailed off, a thought occurring to him. A sly smile spread across his face. "Well, maybe we _can_ find a way to 'elp 'im…"

Spain looked up. "Really? That'd great!" He smiled happily at France. "So what should we do, mi amigo?"

Prussia roughly shoved France off the bar stool. "Okay, firs' we're gonna need a bunch of squirrels, three-and-a-half palomino horses, and a flamethrower!" He shouted exuberantly, waving his arms up and down. "Come on, Gilbird! Let's go—!"

"Prussia," France muttered, clambering angrily back onto his chair, "tell me, what ze 'ell were we just talking about?"

Prussia blinked. "…Does it involve…lederhosen…?"

France crossed his arms. "No, Prussia."

Prussia thought for a second. He reached up and scooped Gilbird off his head. "H-Hey Gilbird, what were they talkin' 'bout?" He asked.

Gilbird gave a drunken chirp and fell sideways into Prussia's beer.

Prussia laughed. "Kesese, come on, Gilbird, they already said it wasn't about lederhosen…" He patted the mug.

France scowled at him. "Right…" he murmured. He turned back toward Spain. "Well…anyway, Romano is lonely, ze poor boy. We need to 'elp 'im find love!" When Spain gave him a blank look, he smiled even wider. "'e just needs a good lover to pull zat stick out of 'is ass! We should 'elp our poor…um…friend!"

Spain thought for a second. "Well, uh how do we do that?"

Prussia leaned on France's head. "Well we're gonna need a laser pointer and a chicken—"

France elbowed Prussia out of his chair. "Well, can't _you_ think of anyone who'd want to go out with Romano…?" He asked with a smirk.

Spain smiled blankly at him. "Um, Belgium?" He guessed.

France's face fell. "Uh, no…" he replied slowly. "Well, you can't think of anyone, anyone at all, who would want to 'ave Romano to zemselves? Anyone at all…?"

"…nope." Spain continued smiling blankly.

France scowled. "Nobody? Not even someone possibly in zis room?" He pressed.

"…I don't think Prussia likes him that way…"

"Kesese, look, Gilbird's dancing…"

France face-palmed. "Are you really zat stupid?" He asked incredulously. He took a deep breath and looked back up at Spain. "Alright, try to think for once. Picture Romano with someone. Anyone."

Spain thought again, starting to feel confused. What the heck was France talking about? Who was he talking about? He shut his eyes, trying to think. Of course he wanted to help his poor little Romano, but he'd never given that much thought to Romano's love life. It was weird. Whenever he'd think of Romano with someone, it was always with him.

He tried to imagine Romano for a moment. Romano, smiling for once. It was a rare occurrence, but Spain could've sworn he'd seen it before, if only for a moment. He always looked so beautiful when he smiled… He pictured Romano, a smile lighting up his face, happy for once…in the arms of a faceless stranger, maybe…

Suddenly, he felt a swell of anger in his stomach. He opened his eyes. _W-Why am I angry? _He wondered, confused. That didn't make sense. Surely he would be happy to see Romano feeling happy like that, right? So why did he suddenly feel like lashing out…?

He shrugged nervously. "Yo no comprende, mi amigo…" he replied warily.

France rolled his eyes. "Zat is a little sad, mon ami…" He murmured. "Really sad…"

Prussia suddenly snorted with laughter. "Hey, France! G-Guess what! I…I bet I can speak French and shit jus' like yooou! Listen, listen: Bangeour!" he grinned proudly. "Kesesese!

France glanced at him, with a combination of flattery and amusement on his face. "Bonjour," he replied slowly. "Comment vas-tu?"

"Tu es un pamplemousse."

France's face fell. "Excusez-moi…?" He asked. "'I'm a…'?"

"'Grapefruit'," Prussia finished, nodding as if this statement made perfect sense.

France and Spain exchanged looks. Spain looked back over toward Prussia. "Maybe we should start heading back to Germany's house?" He suggested.

France nodded in agreement. "Come on, let's go." He grabbed Prussia's arm.

"Non! Je parle français! Pourquoi y at-il des lumières stroboscopiques nombreuses? Pamplemousse!" Prussia started flailing. "I dun wanna go! Leggo you son of a bitch!"

"Prussia, I honestly didn't understand a word you said." France pulled him harder toward the door.

Spain laughed as they dragged him through the door. "So France, um, what were you saying earlier?"

France glanced up from the semiconscious Prussian now staring complacently at the ground. "What? Oh, right, Romano. Well, as I'd been saying earlier, we need to 'elp out our poor friend! 'ow about we try to find someone for him!" With a grunt, he hoisted Prussia into the trunk in his car. "Like I said earlier, Romano just needs a good lover to pull zat stick out of 'is ass."

Spain raised an eyebrow. "So we'll act like a matchmaker for Romano?" He asked.

France smirked again. "Sort of…" he replied. "Maybe not _just_ Romano…" He added under his breath.

Spain grinned. "Sounds great!" He glanced back down at Prussia. "Um, by the way, why are we putting Prussia in your trunk…?"

France glanced down too. "Whoops. Err, force of 'abit I suppose…" He pulled Prussia out of the trunk and roughly tossed him into the backseat.

"SCHNITZEL!" Prussia yelped, sitting up dizzily. He looked around blearily. "Whoa, how'd I get here?" He giggled. "I—I'm so awesome I teleported… Keses—" _hiccup_ "sese."

France rolled his eyes and climbed into the driver's seat. "If you throw up, I will 'it you wiz somezing," he threatened calmly.

"Jus'…Jus' drive slow, okay?" Prussia flopped backward, grabbing his stomach. "So did I beat my record…?"

Spain sat down. "I think you were a few beers short," he replied. "Lo siento, Prussia."

"Well shit…" he mumbled sadly. "And I was so close."

France took off down the road. "Now Prussia, I'm drunk and tired. You tell me where I'm going."

"…Turn left into that warehouse or something," he mumbled sleepily, rolling so his back was toward the window. "Just don't get arrested this time. I'm out of cash."

France rolled his eyes and turned a corner. "So, per'aps we should visit Italy tomorrow," he said, glancing sideways at the Spaniard sitting next to him.

Spain looked up at him. Then he grinned. "Sí, we should…"

* * *

><p><em>In case you want to know what Prussia was shouting: "No! I am speaking French! Why are there so many strobe lights? Grapefruit!"<em>

_Wow, this is the longest time I've had writer's block. I can't believe how long that took. Like a month. Jeez. And this is a pretty short chapter too. Oh well. Hopefuly the next chapter will be better._

_I'm not that good with France's accent. Sorry if it makes reading difficult._

_In case anyone actually cares (and/or reads this bottom thing) this isn't a sequel to Chasing an Empty Dream, but it does technically take place afterword. In case you care._


	3. With A Little Help From His Enemies

Spain woke up the next day with a headache and a loud groan. He opened an eye and looked blearily around. On one side, he had France's stomach, and the other Prussia's leg. The three of them had collapsed into bed and fallen asleep, the way they always did after a night of drinking. He sat up, shoving Prussia's foot away and glancing around. "Heh, this isn't Prussia's room," he mumbled.

"Nein, it's not," Germany muttered darkly from the nearby desk.

Spain smiled at him. "Whoops," he mumbled. "Sorry, mi amigo." Germany ignored him and continued working on the pile of papers on his desk, resisting his urge to glare darkly up every few seconds.

Spain yawned and nudged Prussia's leg. "Prusia, despiértate," he mumbled. Prussia didn't stir. He turned toward France and prodded his stomach a few times. "Hola, Francia, te necesitas levantarte ahora."

France rolled over and wrapped his arms around Spain's head. "Oh Angleterre, you tease…" he murmured, burying his face into Spain's hair.

Spain pushed him out of the bed. France jerked awake. He climbed to his feet. "Bonjour, mon ami," he mumbled. "Pourquoi…?"

"You were talking in your sleep again."

"Ah." France shoved Spain and Prussia out of the bed. Gilbird awoke with an indignant chirp and flew into the air. "Well, good morning Spain," France yawned. He sat down on the bed. "And good morning, Allemagne!" He greeted Germany. Germany glared at him and he quickly shut his mouth.

Spain stood up. "So France, let's get going! ¡Vamos!"

France stared blankly at him for a few seconds. Then he smirked. "Oh right! We can't keep our Romano waiting, can we~?" He walked over and glanced down at Prussia. "Prussia. Prussia, wake up." Prussia snored loudly. France scowled at him and kicked his stomach. "_Prusse!"_

Prussia flinched. "Ooooowww…" he groaned. Gilbird fluttered back onto his head. "The hell that for…?"

"Get up. We're 'eading to Italy!"

…

_Ding dong_

Romano heard the doorbell ring from his room. He shut his eyes tighter. "Damn it," he muttered. "Damn door with its stupid bell waking me up this damn early." He glanced at the clock. It was almost noon. He pulled the blankets over his head with a scowl. "Well, early for me."

_Ding dong_

Romano groaned. "Veneziano!" He shouted. "Get the door!" He knew his brother was still asleep, but hell, _he_ wasn't gonna get the door. "Veneziano! Wake up!"

"B-But fratello, I'm tired…" he heard Italy mumble weakly from next to him.

Romano yelped and sat up. "Why the hell are you in my bed?" He demanded angrily.

Italy glanced sleepily up at him. "Well since I couldn't go to Germany's house last night I decided I wanted to sleep with you!" Italy smiled at him. "You had already fallen asleep, so I figured it'd be okay!"

"What? No! Get the hell out of my bed!" Romano kicked his brother, smirking slightly as he heard a loud thud and a yelp. "Well, now that you're up, you can answer the door." Romano lay back down, drawing the covers over his head.

"But Romano, I'm sooo sleepy!" Italy protested weakly.

_Ding dong_

"Don't care," Romano replied. "Get the door."

Italy sighed and stood up. "Okay," he mumbled dejectedly. He shuffled out of the room and down the stairs.

Romano sat up slightly, trying to hear the who was at the door. Who would want to talk to them at such an unreasonable hour? Well, Romano thought it was unreasonable.

"Oh, ciao!" His brother's happy voice carried all the way up the stairs.

"Bonjour Italy! 'ow are you today?" Romano bristled slightly upon hearing France's voice. Of course, his least favorite person in the world would've woken him up. Well, second to the potato. Romano buried his head deeper into the pillows. _Make him go away…_ he thought bitterly.

"Did we wake you or something?" There was Prussia's voice, not nearly as annoying as usual. He sounded fairly hung over. Romano smirked. Served the albino potato-bastard right.

"Yeah, I just woke up! How did you know?" Italy asked.

"Well, you usually sleep naked, don't you? Kesese~ Pretty awesome, by the way—"

"VENEZIANO YOU IDIOT!" Romano suddenly burst furiously out of his room. "When you answer the door for perverted jackasses like these you're supposed to put some pants on before they—!"

Suddenly, as he reached the first step, he slipped and stumbled forward. "CHIGIII—!" He yelped as he tumbled forward, falling head over heels down the stairs. Then with a thud, he fell into Spain's arms.

"Romano! Are you okay?" Spain asked, hugging Romano to his chest with a worried look on his face. "Did you hurt yourself?"

"—I-I-I-I—y-you—h-h-huh—" Romano tried to speak, but found all the words jumbling together in his throat. He could feel his heartbeat pounding in his ears. And maybe he could also hear Spain's too, now that his head was pressed against Spain's chest. He felt all the blood rising to his face. He couldn't move.

He finally managed to snap out of it when he heard Prussia suggesting mouth to mouth.

"N-No! G-Get off me you bastard!" He tried to shove Spain angrily, instead stumbling backwards and tripping, landing on his back with a thump. "Ack," he yelped.

"Romano!" Both Spain and Italy cried at the same time, bending over to see if he was alright. Prussia and France were snickering silently behind them. Italy bent over and grabbed Romano's arm. "Romano, are you okay?"

"Fine," he snapped, his face still burning. "I'm fine. Get off." He yanked his arm away. He crossed his arms and glared at the Bad Touch Trio. "What the hell did you bastards want?" He demanded.

France gave him a smirk. "Actually, we wanted to talk with _you_!"

Romano looked at them for a second. Then he turned. "I'm going back to bed," he decided.

France and Prussia grabbed his arms. "Oh no, we insist!" They said simultaneously, dragging him into the next room. Spain and Italy followed after him.

"Hey! Get off! Bastards!" Romano yanked his arms away roughly. "Fine. What do you assholes want?" He sat down on a small couch. Spain sat down next to him, his ever-present smile returned to his face. Romano swallowed and edged away from him. _Why the hell do I keep getting so nervous, damn it? _He wondered frantically.

France and Prussia sat down on another couch nearby. France looked up at Italy. "Oh Italy~! Why don't you take a seat next to big brother France?" He patted the spot next to him, hungrily staring at Italy's naked body.

Italy smiled blithely at him. "Okay!" He skipped over and sat down.

"Veneziano!" Romano snapped quickly. "Put some clothes on!"

Italy looked over at him. "Why?" he asked innocently, oblivious to the stare France was giving him. "You're in your underwear!"

Romano stiffened and glanced down, realizing he was only wearing a pair of boxers. He blushed harder and scooted to the very edge of the couch, away from Spain. "T-That's not the point," he replied hastily. "I-I mean, at least, at least cover yourself up with a blanket!"

Italy sighed. "Okay Romano." He leaned down (France of course leaned closer) and pulled a blanket out from beneath the couch. Then he draped it over his shoulders. "There we go! Ve~"

"That's not what I—Oh never mind." Romano crossed his arms. "What the hell did you people want to talk about?"

France looked up. "What? Oh yes, uh, well we wanted to talk with you about your love life!"

Romano blinked, confused. "Uh…why is that…?" He asked slowly.

Prussia laughed. "Well you don't have one! Kesese—!" Romano glared at him and Prussia paused. "What's with that look?" He asked indignantly. "We feel sorry for you! We're just offering our help!"

Romano scowled. "Excuse me?" He looked incredulously from Prussia to France to Spain. "You're joking, right? Are you idiots? I don't need help with my 'love life' or whatever it is you want."

"And zat is where you're wrong," France replied with a grin.

Spain looked over at Romano. "Come on, Romano. We just want to help."

Romano scowled. "Why the hell do you idiots think I need help with my love life?" He snapped.

Spain scooted closer to him and patted his arm. "Well, you just seem so lonely! We thought that if we helped you find someone you'd feel better!"

"Yeah," Italy piped up. "Romano always seems so angry when me and Germany are together! I bet he's just lonely!" He smiled at Romano.

"Or maybe it's because my brother is dating a steroid using potato," Romano retorted. "A-And will you stop that?" He snapped at Spain, yanking his arm away.

Spain looked at Romano. "Romano, please, we just want to help," he said gently.

Romano glanced away quickly, his face getting warm again. _Damn it, why are his eyes so beautif—s-stupid! _He corrected himself silently. _Stupid! His eyes are stupid! Chigi! _"…F-Fine, bastard," he mumbled. "Whatever. I guess it couldn't hurt or anything."

"R-Really?" Spain perked up, his eyes shining. He smiled. "Great!"

Prussia and France exchanged looks, clearly surprised. Spain didn't notice of course. He looked up at them, still smiling happily. Then he noticed out of the corner of his eye Romano leaning away from him. "Romano, what's wrong? How come you're sitting way over there? There's plenty of room on the couch!" He leaned over and pulled Romano closer, draping his arm around his shoulders. Romano stiffened.

Prussia grinned slightly, leaning back on the couch. "So, Romano, you got anyone you like?"

Romano glared at him, still feeling his face burning. "The hell I do," he snapped quickly.

Prussia held up his hands. "Just askin'." He smirked again. "So, do you like girls or guys?"

Romano stared at him, horrified. "E-Excuse me?"

"Well come on, you 'ave to like at least one," France insisted, a devious smile appearing on his face. "Or per'aps you like both!"

Prussia scowled up at him. "No, I heard there are people who don't like either. Aren't they called 'asexuals' or something?"

France shook his head. "Zat it ridiculous! You 'ave to like one or ze other, at least!"

"Nein, I heard this stuff on the internet!"

"Oh, oui, _zat_ automatically makes it true."

"Come on, it's a real thing! Like that sexomnia crap you keep telling me about!"

"Zat is an actual medical condition zat you 'ave no right to—"

"Guy!" Spain called. The two of them looked up, startled. "We need to focus here. ¿Por favor?"

"Kesese, if _that_ isn't ironic—"

"Now Romano," Spain continued, turning toward the mortified Italian sitting next to him. "Do you like girls or guys?"

"I-I-I-I-I…" Normally Romano would've said girls immediately. So why couldn't he speak? Maybe it was those damn eyes…

"What's wrong Romano?" Italy asked, sounding confused. Then a thought occurred to him. He gasped "Romano, we'd all still love you if you're gay!" He shouted loudly.

Spain gasped too. "Romano, how could you think that we wouldn't all still love you? You can tell us anything, we promise Romano!"

"W-What? I-I never said I was—" Romano was starting to panic. "Will all of you idiots stop jumping to conclusions—?"

Spain suddenly hugged Romano tightly. "We accept you, Romano! We accept you!" He seemed like he was going to cry.

Romano cringed, feeling his face heating up again. He took a deep breath. "F-Fine, fine y-you accept me. Whatever. Get off." He pushed Spain back nervously. "I-If I said both, would you stop freaking out…?"

"It's okay, Romano." Spain patted his shoulder soothingly. "It's okay…"

"'ow touching…" France muttered, looking amused. "Now, Romano, is zere anyzing zat you like in a guy?"

Romano rolled his eyes. "Uh, sure, whatever," he mumbled. Then he paused. "W-Wait, I said both. Why do you automatically assume—?"

"So what kinds of guys do you like?" Prussia said with a grin. He glanced over at France. "Maybe he likes _brunettes_."

Romano stiffened slightly. "What's that supposed to—?"

"You know, Prussia, zat could be it," France replied, pretending to look thoughtful. "Or maybe 'e just likes _green eyes_."

Romano's eyes widened.

"Or _tanned skin_?" Prussia suggested.

"Maybe someone _muscular~?_"

"Or even—"

"B-Both of you shut the hell up!" Romano yelled feeling his face heating up. He couldn't help but glance over at the Spaniard sitting next to him. With his tanned skin, beautiful green eyes… _S-Shit what the hell am I thinking? _He thought, quickly turning away.

"Ve~ I bet Romano would want someone with tomatoes!" Italy put in, innocently swinging his legs back and forth.

"Kesese, yeah, someone with a pair of _big, juicy tomatoes_…"

"I-I said shut up!" Romano yelled louder.

"Romano looks just like a tomato~!" Spain said as he leaned over and started poking Romano's cheek affectionately, oblivious to Romano's discomfort. "Look how red his face is! So cute~!" He gave Romano a hug.

France sighed. Prussia rolled his eyes. "This isn't working, France," Prussia muttered accusingly. "Not awesome."

France sighed again. "Well, I guess we're going to need to use a different tactic zen," he whispered back.

"Ve~ what are you to whispering about?" Italy whispered to them, leaning over France.

France smiled at him. "Oh we were just discussing 'ow cute you look!" he replied. "'ere, why don't you sit on big brother's lap~!" He pulled Italy into his lap. Italy gave a little 've~' and settled comfortably into France's lap.

Prussia rolled his eyes. He looked over at Spain, who was still hugging Romano. Whose face was still bright red… Prussia suddenly sat up and stared at him, a mischievous gleam in his eyes. "Hey France," he whispered quickly.

France flinched and drew his hands away from Italy, glancing up nervously. Prussia grinned at him. "Follow my lead."

Prussia cleared his throat loudly. "Oh, jeez, Romano, you don't look so good!" He said, his face suddenly full of mock-concern.

Spain and Romano both looked up. "Huh?" They both said.

France smirked slightly. "Oh yeah!" He said. "Look, Spain, doesn't 'e seem redder zan usual? Romano, are you feeling alright today? Are you feverish at all?"

Romano blinked. "I feel fine, bastard."

Spain frowned at him. "Romano, don't lie to Boss Spain!" He chastised, waggling his finger. "Are you feeling okay?" He felt Romano's forehead. "You do seem a little warm…"

Romano glared at him and the other two of the trio. "I feel fine, you sons of bitches!" He snapped, pushing Spain away from him.

Prussia stood up. "We should take his temperature!" He declared.

France grinned at him. "I 'eard ze best results are from taking 'is temperature rectally~!" He called.

Prussia grinned back at him. "Awesome idea, France!"

Romano stiffened. "W-WHAT? He yelped, scrambling to his feet. "No way in HELL!" He glared at all of them. "I am _not_ sick, damn it! A-And I don't need my—my temperature taken!" He crossed his arms angrily, clenched his teeth, and tried not to blush even harder.

"But Romano, what if you're sick!" Italy protested.

Spain nodded. "Sí, I don't want my little tomato getting sick!" He stood up. "I'll go get a thermometer and—"

"NO! F*CK YOU, YOU STUPID BASTARD!" Romano shouted. "LEAVE ME ALONE! GO TO HELL!"

Spain sent him a disapproving look. "Romano, ¿por favor? I just want to help! If you could just—"

"SHUT UP!" Romano snapped. "GET THE HELL OUT OF MY HOUSE!"

Prussia smirked. "But Romano, we just want to help!"

France nodded. "Oui, we're just trying to 'elp our poor friend!"

The door opened. "Italy! Are you awake yet? I heard my bruder was going to head here and—" Germany strode into the room and froze, seeing Italy sitting in France's lap. Naked.

"WHAT THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING?" He screamed.

France and Italy both yelped. France jumped to his feet, causing Italy to fall onto the floor. "O-Oh, bonjour Germany! I-I was just—"

"GET OUT!" Germany bellowed furiously.

France whimpered and sprinted out of the room.

Prussia laughed. "Come on West, you don't need to—"

"I'll strangle you too. Leave."

Prussia blinked. Then he gave a nervous laugh. "J-Ja, well, I-I'll just get going now…" He slowly backed out of the room. "Come on Spain…"

Spain nodded. "Okay!" He turned toward Romano. "I hope you feel better Romano!"

Romano glared at him. "I was never actually sick you stupid ba—"

Spain leaned closer and kissed Romano's forehead. "Feel better!" With that, he turned and followed his two friends out the front door.

Leaving Romano frozen in place, his face burning bright red.

* * *

><p><em>Prusia, despiértate ~ Prussia, wake up (Spanish)<em>

_Hola, Francia, te necesitas levantarte ahora ~ Hey, France, you need to wake up now (Spanish)_

_Angleterre ~ England (French)_

_Jeez, this story is taking forever for me to write! Oh well, I don't think it will be all that long. Okay, it might. Dunno. Sorry it's taking forever!_


	4. Plan B! Or Are We On E?

Romano stood there. Silently. Not moving a muscle. Afraid to so much as breathe. To move. To blink.

_W-Why is my heart pounding this damn fast? _He thought frantically. _W…What the hell is wrong with me…?_

Romano stood there for what could've been an hour. He ignored Germany and Italy, standing behind him, Germany frantically asking if France hurt him at all ("Ve~ what do you mean?") if France touched him anywhere ("Yeah, he touched me lots! Why?") and if he could strangle the living daylights out of the Frenchman ("Huh? Germany what's wrong?").

After a while, Germany looked up at Romano. "Um, Romano…?" He walked over. "Are you alright? You…haven't tried to kill me yet."

Romano blinked. He looked up at the confused German standing next to him. Then he smacked him. "You stupid potato-bastard, what're you doing here?" He yelled. "Get out of my house before I…before I…I don't know, but God, it's gonna hurt!"

Germany sighed. "Ja, hello to you too." He turned back toward Italy. "He's alive, don't worry."

Italy smiled. "Yay! Let's celebrate with pasta~!" He hugged Germany and Romano and skipped into the kitchen.

Germany rolled his eyes and followed after him. He paused in the doorway and glanced back at the other Italian scowling at him from across the room. "Are…Are you coming?"

Romano glared at him. "Hell no, bastard!"

Germany gave a relieved sigh and slipped into the kitchen after Italy.

Romano glared at the kitchen for a few seconds, until he finally walked toward the stairs to his room. He walked all the way to his bed and collapsed into it, screwing his eyes shut.

In his mind, he could still see that idiot Spain smiling at him, the way he always would. That goofy smile on his face, that happy sparkle in his eyes…those beautiful green eyes of his, handsome face, tanned skin, messy brown hair… He was smiling at Romano, just smiling…leaning closer to Romano, his eyes shutting…his lips brushing against Romano's—

Romano sat up, his eyes flying open. He blinked, startled. "W-W-What the hell?" He stammered to himself, shaking his head frantically and sitting up. "Damn it, Spain," he mumbled. "Chigi…"

Spain was his friend. Hell, to be honest, he was his only friend. And Romano hated the bastard! He told him all the time. He…He hated Spain. R-Right?

_RIGHT?_

…

"So I have some tomatoes in the fridge. You guys want some?"

"Oh you have tomatoes? The Awesome Me never would have guessed," Prussia muttered sarcastically.

"Oui, 'ow unexpected." France sat down on a chair nearby. "Why don't you go get us some? And some wine would be nice."

Spain smiled. "Right! ¡Un momento, por favor!" He strode into the next room.

There was a long awkward pause. Then Prussia turned toward France. "Sooooo…" he whispered, "what's plan B?"

France chuckled. "I feel like we're way past plan B by now…" he replied.

Prussia scowled at him. "Oh shut up. What's our next plan, then?"

France thought for a second. "Per'aps we should…" he trailed off, thinking harder. Finally he glanced up at Prussia. "Why is it zat I am always ze one coming up with ze ideas? You think of somezing."

Prussia thought for a second. "Hmm. Well we could always, um…"

"So I had some cilantro to put on the tomatoes," Spain said, walking back into the room. "And it turns out they're really good with that mozzarella cheese Romano loves—"

"Spain, shut up, we're plotting," Prussia snapped.

Spain laughed. "Again? Should I just come back in a minute?"

Prussia smirked. "Yeah, that'd be…" He paused, a thought occurring to him. He glanced down at the tray of food Spain was holding. Then he grinned. "Say Spain, do you think Romano is feeling better?"

Spain blinked, suddenly looking worried. "I hope he is. Why? D-Do you think he still feels sick?"

Prussia pursed his lips, pretending to look concerned. "Well, I don't know, he did look pretty sick…" He looked up at Spain. "Oh, wait, I know what would make him feel better! Why don't you invite him over for dinner?"

Spain's eyes seemed to light up. "That's a great idea!" he enthused. "I bet that would make him feel better! I could make him that pasta he likes! And stuff with tomatoes, since he loves those so much too! ¡Gracias mi amigo! I'll go call him right now!"

Prussia grinned at him as he ran into the other room. "Any time, 'mi amigo'!" He called after him.

France smirked at Prussia as soon as Spain was gone. "Wow," he mused, "zat was actually a good idea."

Prussia smirked back. "I believe the correct term is 'impressionnant'."

…

The door to Romano's bedroom creaked open. Romano jumped, then looked up furiously as Germany strode into the room. Germany paused and coughed uncomfortably. "Um, hallo," he said.

Romano narrowed his eyes. "Hello," he replied slowly.

Germany gave another nervous cough. "J-Ja, um, how are you?"

Romano blinked. "Um, fine…?"

Germany nodded. "Is there anything wrong? Would you like to talk about—?"

"Veneziano's making you do this isn't he?"

"He started going on about how we should all be 'bestest friends' and then we could all be happy together and eat pasta and live happily ever after, or something." Germany sighed. "When I said it was a stupid idea he burst into tears."

Romano snickered. "Wow, you are the most pathetic potato I've ever met."

Germany scowled at him. "_You_ think _I'm_ pathetic?" He shook his head. "Never mind…Can I just lie and say that I made you feel better?"

Romano flipped him off.

"I will just take that as a yes." Germany turned to leave.

Romano glared at him some more. "Idiota—"

_Ring ring ring ring ring_

Romano flinched and looked down at his cell phone. Then he grimaced, seeing the familiar name flashing across the screen. He stared at it for a few seconds, trying to decide whether or not he should answer the phone.

Finally, he answered. "You bastard, you were just at my house! Did you forget something?"

"¡Hola mi tomate~!" Spain answered with a smile. Well, Romano could just tell the bastard was smiling…

"What do you want, bastard?" He snapped.

"Aw, but Romano, I just wanted to check on you!" Spain protested. "I was worried you'd still be sick!"

"For god's sake, I wasn't sick!" Romano yelled. "I was never sick! You are un idiota!"

Spain paused for a second. "Well, just in case, would you like to come over for dinner?"

Romano blinked. "Huh?"

"Well, I could make you some food!" Spain answered. "That always makes you feel better doesn't it? I could make you some pasta or paella and I still have a bunch of fresh tomatoes left here from the other day too! Please Romano?"

Romano thought for a moment. One the one hand, he hated Spain. On the other hand, he did like food. And Spain was an amazing cook. And he'd be getting plenty of fresh tomatoes.

Romano scowled. "Fine. Bastard. But I'm not eating any of your stupid paella."

Spain grinned. "Of course Romano!" he answered, knowing that Romano always loved eating his paella. "I can't wait! See you soon!"

Romano gave a shaky sigh. "Y-Yeah, uh, see you…" he replied, hanging up the phone.

There was a long awkward silence. Romano took a deep breath, tucking the phone into his pocket. Dinner at Spain's house? Maybe he shouldn't even show up. He kept having this idiotic thought about the Spaniard. Maybe he should just—

_Creeeeek_

Romano jumped and looked up at the German currently trying to slip out of his room. Romano and Germany stared at each other for a moment. Romano screamed, "W-WAIT A SECOND, I-I THOUGHT YOU LEFT—GET THE HELL OUT OF MY ROOM!" He grabbed a knife out of his bedside table and chucked it at Germany.

Germany sidestepped the knife. "Err, right, sorry, I'll just—" He ducked out of the room.

Romano glared at the door, fuming. _That eavesdropping potato bastard! _He thought furiously. _I'll kill him! I'll stab his eyes out!_ He got to his feet and walked over to the door.

"Romano~!" Italy glomped him as he opened the door.

Romano yelped and shoved him back. "What the hell do you think you're—?"

"I can't believe you're finally going on a date with big brother Spain!" Italy shouted gleefully, jumping up and down excitedly. "Ve~ What're you going to wear? You have to look nice for your first date! Here, why don't we fix your hair up and get a cute outfit and—"

"W-What?" Romano stammered, turning red. "N-No! I'm not going on a date! W-Who the hell told you—" He froze when he noticed Germany standing awkwardly behind Italy. "…Y-You…YOU SON OF A BITCH, I'LL KILL YOU!" he leapt toward Germany.

Germany held his hand out his hand, holding Romano away from him as he tried to violently swipe at him. "I just said the two of you were talking on the phone," he replied. "He's the one who came up with the date part."

Romano glared at the two of them. He wasn't sure of who to be more angry at, the potato or the idiot currently "ve~"ing happily next to him. But since he couldn't reach the German, he just smacked his brother.

"Idiota!" He snapped. "I'm not going on a date with Spain!"

"O-Ow!" Italy whimpered, ducking back and pressing against Germany's side. "Y-You're not? Oh…" He looked down, disappointed. "It's alright Romano! Spain does like you a lot!"

Germany sighed. "I don't think that's what's worrying him, Italy…" he mumbled.

Romano glared at them some more. Then he realized something he'd said a second ago. "And anyway, what's wrong with what I usually wear?" He asked darkly.

Italy smiled innocently. "It's just that you're still in your underwear, so I thought you'd want help getting dressed! You wouldn't want to go in your underwear would you? I mean, he probably wouldn't get all mad like Germany did that one time I forgot to put on clothes for our date and he—'"

"Shut up!" Romano interrupted him before he could continue his story. "I wasn't going to show up in my underwear like an idiot, but I can dress myself perfectly fine." He stormed back into his room, slamming the door shut hard enough that it just bounced back open. He strode over to his drawer and yanked it open, pulling out a pair of jeans and an old T-shirt.

Italy peaked in after him. "You're wearing that?" He asked, looking worried.

Romano glared at him. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Italy just stared at him. "You can't wear something like that on your first date! What will big brother Spain think?"

Romano rolled his eyes. "Fine, dumbass, then what do you suggest I wear?"

Italy stared at him for a second, wide-eyed. Romano blinked. "O-Oh shit, w-wait Veneziano, I didn't—"

"YAY~! I GET TO BUY ROMANO A NEW OUTFIT!" Italy cheered happily. "Let's go buy you a new outfit! And we could get him a cute haircut and make him look really nice this is going to be so much fun come on Romano let's go, come on Germany can come too, yay~~~!" He grabbed Romano's arm, then Germany's, then dragged both of them out of the house.

Germany sighed as Italy giggled and dragged the two of them. "Why can't he ever get this excited for training…?"

…

"Merde, Spain, can't your 'air ever lie flat?" France complained, trying to fix Spain's hair.

Spain winced as France tugged on the brush again. He'd already changed outfits several times. Why were his friends worrying so much about his dinner with his friend? "W-Why does it matter?" He asked weakly. "We're just going to be eating dinner, aren't we?"

France paused for a second. Then he laughed. "Of course, mon ami," he answered reassuringly, "but you need to look nice for your _dessert~_!"

Spain blinked. "I wasn't planning to make a dessert," he replied, beginning to get confused.

France just chuckled. "Of course you weren't…" He replied, giving one more useless tug to the brush he was currently using to assault Spain's hair, finally tossing it onto the table. He glanced toward the front door, where the albino was currently watching through the window. "Anyone 'ere yet?"

Prussia shook his head. "Nope." He turned toward his friends. "So, what're you planning on making Spain? Oh, oh, you gotta put up a bunch of those romantic looking candles too!"

Spain still looked confused. "Why?"

France glared at Prussia. Then he smiled at Spain. "Well, you want to make 'im feel better, so…so why don't you, err, demonstrate 'ow to 'ave a…romantic dinner? You know, to be, err, 'elpful!"

Spain nodded. "Oh, okay, I get it! I need to show him how to be all 'romantic'! Thanks guys! I never realized you two were so nice! I bet Romano will be so grateful!" He smiled at France, who was still trying to figure out how what he'd said made sense.

Prussia rolled his eyes. "I'm sure he will…" he muttered back. He glanced out the window, then straightened up. "Well, we're going to find out, won't we!"

…

"So don't get any food on your cute new shirt and try to smile a little and I hope you have fun on your date and if big brother Spain kisses you don't punch him since I don't know if he'll want to keep going out with you if you kill him and bye Romano have fun~!"

Romano smacked furiously at his younger brother. "W-Will you just stop talking?" He snapped, as Italy continued pushing him toward the front door. "I-It's not a f*cking date! I don't need any advice."

Italy just smiled at him. "Ve~ Of course not," he replied. He gave his brother a hug. "Good luck~!" And he skipped away toward Germany's car, which promptly drove off as soon as Italy was safely inside.

Romano flipped the two of them off, then turned toward Spain's house. He stared at it for a moment, feeling his pulse beginning to speed up. Then he shook his head. "I-It's not a date…" he told himself firmly. He shakily smoothed his shirt and hair. He strode up to the front door. And he slowly knocked on the front door.

* * *

><p><em>This chapter is dedicated to my sick friend, because she has nothing better to do. Since she can't leave her house. Feel better soon!<em>

_Impressionnant ~ Awesome (French) What else would it be? And you _all_ know Prussia knows how to say Awesome in as many languages as possible…_

_Merde ~ Shit (French) _

_I really can't tell what letter plan they'd be on._


	5. Demonstration

Romano knew that something was going to go terribly wrong when Prussia answered the door.

"Hey Romano! How's it going?" Prussia grinned down at him. "Aw, did you get all dressed up for your date? Cute! Kesesese~!"

Romano stared blankly at him for a moment completely dumbfounded. Before Romano could think of a retort, (or punch Prussia in the face) France had grabbed Prussia by the ear. "Prussia! What're you doing?" He asked, looking annoyed.

Prussia yelped. "Ow! I'm answering the door, what does it look like? Not awesome! Leggo my ear!"

France scowled at him. "You were supposed to let Spain answer the door! Really, do you 'ave a single romantic bone in your body?"

"I do so!"

"Really? When's ze last time you've even been on a date?"

Prussia scowled at him. "Hey, The Awesome Me goes on plenty of dates, arschloch!"

"With who, your bird?"

"Shut up!"

Finally, Romano found his voice again. "What the hell are you bastards doing here?" He hissed weakly.

They both looked up, as if just remembering that he was there. France smiled at him. "Oh, don't mind us!" He insisted. "We were just leaving!"

Prussia gave him a distressed look. "We were? What? Aw, come on France, I wanted to stay and see if they would start fu—"

France yanked him through the doorway and started dragging him off. He turned and smiled at Romano, who shuddered slightly. "Well, 'ave fun, mon cher~!" He called. Then they were both gone.

Romano blinked. Then he scowled and strode into the front room. "Idioti," he mumbled.

Spain's house was huge. No, huge didn't even begin to describe it. It was gigantic, colossal, tremendous, every other word Romano could think of. How he'd ever managed to find his way around this damn place when he was a child, he never knew. He had no idea how many floors there were. At least three. Well, that's the highest Romano ever dared to climb anyway. That was about where the bedrooms were. There was a kitchen on the first floor, and a large garden out behind the house. If Romano tried to find anywhere else in the house, he'd end up lost for hours. He still couldn't quite locate the bathrooms.

"Hey bastard!" Romano called. "I'm here!" He was met with a long silence. He frowned. "Spain!" He called louder. "Spain, I'm here!" Another pause. "Damn it Spain," he muttered, crossing his arms. "Where the hell—?"

"Romano~!"

Suddenly a pair of muscular arms wrapped themselves around Romano's stomach, causing him to yelp. "Romano, there you are!" Spain said brightly, grinning against the top of Romano's head. "How've you been?"

Romano swallowed quickly, feeling his face getting warm again. He tried to pry Spain's arms off of him. "B-Bastard," he spat, "it's been five hours. Nothing has changed, idiot. Except maybe you got stupider. Let go!"

Romano could feel him pouting on the top of his head. "Aww, that was mean, Romano. I'm just worried about you is all!"

Finally, Romano managed to loosen Spain's death-grip and spun around furiously. Spain just smiled happily at him. Romano glared back, glancing up at his hair. Spain had tried to comb it through. No, not Spain. Spain never did that. Probably one of his bastard friends.

He was also wearing a nice shirt. Romano wasn't sure why, but he did look really good in it. It contrasted with his tanned muscular—_A-ACK, STOP THAT! _He thought frantically, shaking his head. "R-Right, so let's start eating," he stammered quickly, shoving past Spain and toward the kitchen.

Spain nodded. "¡Vale! But I don't think the food is quite ready yet."

Romano sighed and strode into the kitchen. He could smell pasta, and paella, and, of course, tomatoes. His mouth was watering already. "R-Right, well, hurry up with the food," he murmured.

Spain grinned at him, slipping past him. "¡Un momento, por favor!" He strode over to the stove and grabbed a bright pink apron off of the nearby countertop, slipping it over his head.

Romano rolled his eyes and sat down at the nearby table. "Isn't that Belgium's?" He asked dryly, eyeing the apron disdainfully.

Spain nodded. "Sí, she let me borrow it!"

"…Why?"

Spain laughed. "To keep myself from getting food on my shirt!" He replied, as if that were the most obvious thing in the world.

Romano looked at him for a second. "Uh…right…" he mumbled slowly. He yawned.

"So Romano, how're you feeling?"

Romano glanced up at him again. For once, his goofy smile was gone, replaced with nothing but concern. "Are you sure you're not still feeling sick?"

Romano stared at him for a moment. He couldn't be angry at Spain. Not when he was just worried about him. "Ugh, I feel fine. Stop worrying. Idiot," he finished, turning away and staring at the floor.

Spain smiled. "Well, alright Romano." He turned and continued cooking. "So I'm making some pasta, some paella, a little bit of gazpacho, and—

_Thud_

Romano stiffened and sat up. "What the hell was that?"

Spain glanced up, frowning. "Huh, it sounds like something fell…" he murmured. He shrugged and continued cooking.

…

"Scheiße, you're standing on my foot."

"No I am not! Ow, get your elbow off of my 'ead!"

"H-Hey, move over, you're going to crush Gilbird!"

"S-Stop pulling on my 'air!"

The two intruders scrambled quickly to their feet, dusting themselves off ad glancing around. Prussia leaned out the window they had just scrambled through and grinned down at the figure standing below. "Can't believe I'm saying this, but thanks for the help!" He half whispered, half shouted down.

"Just get some good pictures or I'll smash in your skull," Hungary replied crossly, folding her arms across her chest. "Really, making a poor girl drive all the way out here—"

"Ja, ja, whatever." Prussia ducked back inside before Hungary could finish berating him. "So, France, any idea where we are?"

France nodded. "Oui, we should be right above Spain's dining room. Let's just go find the stairs. They should be just below us…"

They crept out the door, both grinning. "Say France, have I ever told you how awesome you are? I mean, of course, not as awesome as me, but…"

…

"Alright, Romano, I'm finished!"

Romano sat up, his mouth starting to water. "Right, well, let's eat then, damn it." He grabbed a plate.

"Nuh uh, not yet mi Romano!" Spain replied, smile just getting bigger. "I thought we could eat in the dining room!"

Romano gave him a blank look. "The…dining room?"

Spain nodded. "Yeah, the dining room!" He answered, grabbing the several plates and started walking into the next room. "You know the one! Where you broke that vase then drew several pictures of me impaled on a sword on the wall when you were little! Don't you remember? Oh, could you grab the paella?"

Romano coughed uncomfortably. "E-Err, right, sure. I remember." _Sort of. Not really,_ he added in the back of his mind._ There's a dining room?_ He grabbed the plate of paella and started walking quickly after the Spaniard.

The food smelled delicious. Romano could feel his stomach growling hungrily. Spain was an amazing cook, Romano always had to admit. But then again, he did have to cook for himself and Romano for a while. Since Romano was a terrible cook as a child. And was clumsy enough to keep burning himself on the hot stove anyway.

Romano tried to watch all the rooms they passed through, in case he needed a quick getaway. They went right, through a long hallway full of old statues, left through a small room with a small desk and a bookcase, straight through what looked to be a large sitting room, right, left, straight, left, left again, Romano was starting to get dizzy, right, left, right—

Suddenly, the two of them were in what seemed to be a small banquet hall. Or so Romano assumed. He didn't go into those quite that often. He stared around in awe. "When the hell did this get here?" He asked.

Spain laughed. "No sé, mi amigo. I don't remember how old this house is!" He laughed and set the food he was carrying on the small ornate table near the middle of the room. He glanced over at Romano. Romano was still staring blankly around, eyes wide. Spain just chuckled. "Aw, Romano, you are just so cute~!" He grabbed Romano's arm and led him over to the table.

Romano took a moment before those words sunk in. "I-I'm not cute, damn it!" He snapped quickly, feeling his face beginning to get warm again. He yanked his arm away. And suddenly, the plate of paella he was holding slipped out of his hands. With a loud clatter, it fell to the floor.

Romano flinched. "S-Shit…" he mumbled weakly after a second.

Spain looked down at the mess on the floor. Then he sighed. "Err, un momento, Romano. Let me just grab a mop or something." He gave Romano a small smile.

Romano sighed, turning away. "Y-Yeah," he muttered. "Yeah, you go do that…"

Spain walked briskly out of the room.

Romano stared after him. Then he groaned, sitting down on the chair nearby. Why did he have to go and do that? Damn it! And for once he was trying to be nice to the bastard! And he had to go and destroy Spain's homemade food. Why did he always have to go and ruin everything?

And worse than that, Spain had just sighed. Because by now, he had gotten used to the fact that no matter what Romano did, he was going to end up destroying it anyway…

…

"Let me see, where's that mop gone off to?" Spain wondered, looking through his closet and running his hands through his hair. He sighed again. He didn't mind the paella that much to be honest. He was just sad that Romano wouldn't be able to eat any of it. Poor Romano…

"Is this what you're looking for?"

Suddenly a mop was being shoved into Spain's face. Spain looked up at the grinning albino. He smiled. "Gracias Prussia!" He replied grabbing it and turning back toward the other room.

Prussia nodded. "You're welcome." He pursed his lips. "So what do you even need that for? Did Romano break something again?" He sniggered a bit.

Spain blinked, then frowned at Prussia. "It's not that big of a deal," he replied slowly. "Romano just dropped some paella."

Prussia rolled his eyes. "Ja, sure, whatever."

Spain turned away again and paused. France just smiled at him. "Bonjour~!"

Spain laughed. "Wow, you were sure being quiet! And here I thought you both had left!"

France nodded. "So 'ow is your dinner coming along?" He asked, pretending to sound uninterested.

Spain sighed. "It alright so far. Romano just—"

France scoffed at him. "_Just_ alright? Come on, Spain, where is zat Spanish 'passion' you're always acting so proud of?"

Spain tilted his head, looking almost like a confused puppy. "Huh?"

France rolled his eyes. "Don't you remember? I thought you were going to teach Romano all you know about l'amour~!"

Spain thought for a second. "L'amour, l'amour…Oh, right, that's love!" He snapped his fingers. France rolled his eyes as Spain continued talking. "You're right! Wow, I can't believe I almost forgot! Thanks guys!"

"No problem…" France replied. "Now, go find some romantic things to show Romano!" He gently pushed Spain through a nearby doorway. "Oh, and don't tell 'im that you're trying to show 'im 'ow to be romantic. You know 'ow self conscious zat poor boy can get~!"

Spain smiled. "Oh, right! Okay, thanks France!" He ran off.

Prussia snickered. "This is going to be awesome." He snuck quietly toward the dining room. "Just give me a sec to put another camera in the kitchen. And the bedroom…"

…

Romano stared blankly at the doorway, his head resting on the table. _How long does it take to grab a mop?_ He wondered. _Ugh, maybe the idiot got lost._ He sniggered. _It would be like that bastard to get lost in his own house. Or maybe France stole his mop and he's out looking for it._

_Or maybe he left._

Romano blinked at that last thought, startled. What if he had left? He sat up. Spain could've gotten tired of Romano. It wouldn't be that surprising. He could've finally figured out that Romano wasn't worth the constant swearing, and the insults, and the destruction. Hell, Romano was surprised he had taken this long to figure it out. He could've just bailed on the date…

Romano shook his head. _Spain wouldn't do that, he's too stupid_, he reprimanded himself. _A-And it's not a date, idiot._

"Romano!"

Romano jumped at the sound of Spain's voice. He almost let out a sigh of relief, but instead chose to just turn around and yell at him. "Jesus, Spain what the hell…?" He trailed off slowly as Spain started placing candles in the middle of the table. "What took you…so… What are you doing?"

Spain just chuckled. "Nothing, mi querido~!" He replied, lighting the candle with a flourish. "There! Perfect!"

Romano scowled. "What did you just call me?"

"Nothing~!" He set out a few plates of food. "Okay, here you go! Eat up!" He paused, as if just thinking of something. "No, wait!" He grabbed Romano's chair and gently pushed it in. "There!"

Romano glared up at him. "What're you doing?" He asked slowly, eyes narrowed.

Spain just smiled down at him. "Aww, Romano, you are just so cute~!" He bent down and gave him a big hug. "This is going to be fun!"

Romano glared up at him, ignoring his once-again blushing face. "The hell is that supposed to mean?" He snapped.

Spain didn't answer, instead sitting down in the chair across the table. "Nothing~!"

Romano stared at him suspiciously. When Spain didn't say anything else, Romano slowly started eating.

Spain couldn't help but grin at the look on Romano's face. Romano was forcing himself to scowl. Struggling very hard to avoid smiling. Spain continued smiling at the cute look on his face, until finally Romano glared up at him. "What the hell is with that look, bastard?

Spain opened his mouth to answer. Then he thought for a second. _Romantic,_ he thought. _What should I say to sound romantic? _He glanced around, thinking.

Prussia and France waved frantically in the doorway. Spain almost waved back, before Prussia held up a small sign.

_Compliment him, arschloch!_

Spain blinked. Then he grinned. "Oh, okay!" He called to Prussia. Prussia cursed and ducked behind the doorway

Romano blinked. "What?" He looked over his shoulder.

"Romano, you're outfit looks so cute~!"

Romano glanced back at him. "…Huh? Oh, right. Veneziano made me buy this. I just wanted to wear jeans and shit. He's such an idiot." He shrugged and continued eating.

Spain's face fell slightly. That wasn't such a romantic conversation. _Come on, Spain, you're going to ruin this,_ he told himself, thinking hard. _I need another romantic thing to say. Come on, it's to help Romano. _He started thinking hard. He looked up at France and Prussia. Prussia scribbled something else on the sign.

_Tell him his eyes are pretty! West says that works on Italy~_

"Uh, Romano, you're eyes are beautiful!" Spain declared.

Romano blinked. "What?" he looked over his shoulder, as France and Prussia ducked out of site again. "What the hell are you talking about?"

Spain frowned. "Aw, you were supposed to get happy. That makes Italy happy!"

Romano looked up. Then he seemed to bristle. "What the hell? What's that supposed to mean you stupid bastard?"

Spain grimaced slightly. _This isn't working,_ he thought. He looked up at the doorway again. France had written something else. Spain squinted, trying to read France's loopy handwriting.

"Romano," He read aloud. "You are sexy. I want to…do you on the table…?"

Romano jerked and started choking. He gasped, grabbing his chest. After a moment, he forced the food down his throat. "W-What?" He sputtered.

Suddenly Spain was standing over him. "Oh my gosh Romano are you okay?" He asked frantically, bending down and grabbing his shoulder.

Romano coughed again, glaring up at him. "S-Shut up!" He spat angrily. "W-What the hell is wrong with you, you stupid bastard?"

Spain reached out and stroked his cheek. "I-I'm sorry mi querido. Are you okay?"

Romano felt his heart suddenly leap into his throat. "W-Wha…?" He breathed. He shook his head weakly. "I-I'm…I'm fine…" he stammered weakly.

Spain gave a relieved sigh. "Oh, good…" he murmured, smiling softly at the stunned Italian.

Romano opened and shut his mouth, trying desperately to make words come out. "I-I…u-uh…w-w-wha…?" He managed to stammer.

Spain leaned closer. "Good…" he repeated.

Romano just stared at him. _What's happening? _He thought hazily. Spain just continued smiling at him, leaning closer…

Then suddenly his lips were against Romano's. Romano stiffened, eyes getting wide enough he thought they'd pop out of their sockets. He couldn't breathe. And not just because Spain was probably cutting off his airway. _W-What's happening? _He thought weakly. _Why am I…? Why does this feel…good…?_

France and Prussia high fived in the next room.

Romano's eyes fell shut. He leaned closer, feeling Spain wrap his muscular arms around him. _Shit,_ he thought frantically. _Shit shit shit shit __**shit**_. He tried to move to, well, do something, but his body didn't seem to want to obey. He just wanted to sit there forever.

There was a loud clatter as Hungary's camera fell out of Prussia's pocket.

Romano's eyes flew open. It was as if he'd just snapped out of a trance. He yelped and elbowed Spain in the stomach. "WHAT THE F*CKING HELL ARE YOU DOING?" he screamed, mortified.

Spain gasped slightly, grabbing his stomach. Romano glared at him, face practically on fire. He spun around to face the two reaching for the now-broken camera. "AND WHY THE F*CK ARE YOU TWO HERE?"

Prussia coughed. "M-Moral support?"

"Oui, w-we were just—"

"NO! SHUT UP!" He spun around toward the Spaniard. "W-What the hell was that you idiot?" He spat.

Spain looked up at him, teary-eyed. "I-I was just trying to help!"

Romano blinked. "Help with what?" He growled furiously.

"W-Well, France said that you needed help learning how to be all romantic for your dates and stuff!" He replied. France flinched and Prussia started frantically waving Spain down. Spain continued. "S-So I was just trying to help you. Y-Y'know, demonstrating, so you'd know and…" He trailed off.

Romano froze. He stared at him for a second, words sinking in. _Demonstrating. _"So…that wasn't real…?" He murmured softly.

Spain blinked. "W-What do you mean Romano?"

Romano stood there. Suddenly his chest felt hollow. "Oh," he mumbled almost in a whisper.

They stood there for a moment. Then slowly Romano turned and began walking. Spain straightened up. "Romano?" He asked. Romano ignored him and continued walking. First a right, then a left, another left, go straight through the next room…

"Romano, what's wrong?"

Romano clenched his jaw, ignoring the tears that threatened to stream down his face. Another left, a right, straight, left, right…

Spain caught up to Romano as they entered the entrance hall. "Romano where are you—?"

Romano spun around and punched him as hard as he could, sending him reeling backward. "GET THE F*CKING HELL AWAY FROM ME!" He screamed as loud as he could. "YOU STUPID, WORTHLESS, PATHETIC BASTARD! _**I HATE YOU!**_" He turned, stepped outside, and slammed the door shut behind him.

And he ran home, not once looking back.

* * *

><p><em>¡Vale! ~ Okay!<em>

_Idioti ~ idiots_

_Mi querido ~ my dear_

_Wah, I really don't know why I take so long with each chapter! I blame you, Rachel. Anyway, kinda sad chapter. Sorry if I crushed any dreams. Rachel._

_Well, I'll try to work on the next chapter a little faster~_


	6. Misery

Germany flipped through his book, turning on the small table lamp next to him. The sun had already set hours ago. It was pitch dark outside. Germany glanced up, hearing the first telltale signs of rain softly hitting against the window.

He sighed and looked back down at the chapter he was on: _Tips on Maintaining a Healthy Relationship._ He started slowly reading, trying to take in every sentence. Sure he and Italy were dating, but he always just had to be sure he was doing everything perfectly. Because he's Germany.

He knew it was weird, but no matter how long he and Italy would date, Germany was sure he'd always think it was a dream. The only thing really letting him believe otherwise was the small brunette sleeping soundly against his arm, his soft breathing the only sound in the room.

There was a flash, and a low rumble. Germany glanced up at the window. The rain, which just a second ago had been a quiet drizzle, was now pounding violently against the window. Germany sighed, flipping to the next page. He wondered in the back of his mind how Romano's date was going. He'd told Italy that he'd pick Romano up when he called, but it was past midnight already. Maybe Romano was just going to spend the night there…

No sooner had Germany thought that that there was a loud thud against the front door. Germany jumped slightly, tensing up. He set his book down and turned toward the door. He frowned. Had he just imagined—but no, there was another thud. No, not a thud, a knock this time. Who was knocking at half past midnight?

Germany groaned, standing up and shifting the smaller Italian gently against a pillow. Then he walked over to the door, unlocking it and pulling it open. "It's the middle of the night. Who the hell—?"

Romano looked up at him, his eyes red and his clothes soaked. Germany froze. "Romano? W-What are you doing? Weren't you supposed to call? Did you walk home? Mein Gott, why the hell—?"

"Shut up…"

Germany stopped again. Romano's voice had barely been over a whisper. Romano didn't even glare at him, just stared ahead with an empty, defeated look in his eyes. Germany didn't say anything. He stepped back, letting Romano slowly trudge past him. "Are…you okay?" He asked after a moment.

Romano stayed silent. He strode past him, past his younger brother, and out of sight.

…

"You idiot! Why the hell would you tell him to say that?"

"What? N-Non! Zat's not even what I wrote, 'e just started spewing nonsense, I swear!"

"Verdammt, what're we going to do now?"

"I-I don't know!" France looked up at Spain. "'e 'asn't moved," he murmured.

Prussia swallowed. He walked over. "H-Hey, uh, Spain." He gingerly grabbed his shoulder. "S-Spain, are you alright?"

Spain didn't answer at first. Then he slowly turned toward the others. "He…He hates me…" he managed to whisper, a broken look on his face.

Prussia and France exchanged looks. France walked over and gently grabbed his arm. "Come on, mon ami, maybe you should just go sleep… We'll fix everything in ze morning."

"He hates me…" Spain repeated, almost as if he didn't hear. France sighed and started leading him up a nearby set of stairs. Spain just followed numbly. Romano hated him…

…

Romano woke up to the sun hitting his eyes. He blinked once. And he lay there. He couldn't move. Everything felt so numb. His arms and legs, and his chest. It was like there wasn't anything in it anymore. A hollow shell. That was all that was left. Just a hollow shell…

He stared blankly at the clock on his bedside table. It read ten O'clock. Then eleven O'clock. Twelve O'clock. One. Two. Why did it matter anymore…?

A little before three, there was a loud knock at the door. "Romanoooo!" A voice called. "Romano, wake up! You gotta wake up! You missed pasta! And it's almost siesta time! You can't sleep the whole day! Germany always gets really mad at me when I try! Come on, please Romano?"

Romano glanced up at the door. He slowly pulled himself out of the warmth of his bed. He'd been sleeping for hours, but he still felt drained, exhausted. He shuffled to the door and slowly pulled it open.

Italy straightened up. Then he smiled brightly. "Romano! Finally, I thought you might've been dead, but Germany said that was stupid, so I decided to check on you! I'm glad you're not dead! Yay!" He hugged him.

Romano stared blankly over Italy's shoulder. Then he walked down the hall, pushing his brother off of him. Italy blinked. "Romano? Why're you being all quiet?" He walked after him. Then his eyes lit up. "Oh, Romano, I forgot to ask! How was your date with big brother Spai—?"

There was a muffled yelp as Germany clamped his hand over Italy's mouth. Italy looked up, startled. "Germany—?"

"Come on Italy, why don't we eat some pasta and leave your brother alone for a bit?" Germany suggested quickly. "C-Come on, let's go."

Italy frowned. He'd never turn down pasta, but why was Germany suggesting it? He looked over at Romano. "Romano, is…something wrong?" He asked after a moment.

Romano stood there for a second. He tried to think of something to say. Finally, he just glanced up at his brother, a dull look in his eyes. "Everything."

…

Spain stared up at the ceiling, watching the light from the cracks in the window blind slowly move across. For once in his life, he couldn't sleep. He just kept replaying the night before in his head. Over and over, he was stroking Romano's cheek. Again and again he was leaning closer, staring at those soft lips, that beautiful face… And he was pressing his lips against Romano's…feeling his eyes shut…feeling the warmth from Romano's cheeks…

Spain shook the image out of his head. Why? Why did he do that? He'd just wanted to make sure Romano was okay. He hadn't been trying to do anything. Why was this happening? Why was his heart pounding so hard? It was Romano he was thinking about. _Romano_ of all people! Spain had practically raised him!

_And now Romano hated him…_

Spain flinched and shut his eyes. There was a sharp stinging in his chest. Romano hated him. Romano _hated_ him. The words just repeated in his head. _Romano hated him._ Why had Spain been so stupid? How could he have just destroyed their friendship in a single swoop? _Romano hated him._ His chest felt like there was a knife being drilled into his heart. _Romano hated him. _His eyes were starting to sting. _Romano hated him. Romano hated him. Romano…_

"Spain…uh, bonjour."

Spain opened one eye. France was leaning over the side of the bed, smiling weakly at him. France and Prussia had both fallen asleep on the floor next to the bed. They'd been arguing through the night, about who had messed of the worst. The standard argument, but for once it was a fairly intense one. Prussia was still asleep against the wall behind France, several small bruises on his head.

"So, uh, I see you're awake," France began weakly.

Spain stared at him. Then he rolled onto his side, away from France. France sighed. "Come on, mon ami, cheer up!"

"Why?" Spain asked dryly.

France frowned at him. "Come on, you need to get up!" He started shaking Spain by the shoulder. "You 'ave to go talk with Romano! Come on, I'm sure ze poor boy is at 'ome crying 'is poor eyes out. You need to go cheer him up and—"

"Why?" Spain asked again.

France paused. "What do you mean 'why'?" He asked.

"What's the point?" Spain said softly, "Romano…Romano hates me."

France stared at him. "What's ze point?" He scoffed. "What on earth is zat supposed to mean?" He smacked the back of Spain's head. "What's ze point? Honestly." He shook his head. "Really, Spain, I am disappointed. 'ow much more clearly do we need to make it? Do we need to spell it out for you?"

Spain glanced over his shoulder. "What do you mean?"

France shook his head. "Come on, Spain, it's obvious for _everyone_ else besides the two of you. _Anyone _else besides the two of you!"

Spain rolled over to look at his friend. "What are you talking—?"

"Everyone else can see it. Every time you look at 'im, every smile you give 'im, we can all see 'ow much you care for 'im. And every time 'e blushes and turns away… Mon dieu, Spain, your people are supposed to be some of the best lovers in ze world! Just _think_ for a moment!"

Spain thought about it for a second. What was France talking about? He was talking about Romano. That was it. About Romano, and how cute his face got every time he blushed. About that weightless feeling Spain felt every time Romano smiled. About those eyes…and hair…and…and…

"I…" Spain shook the feeling out of his head. "France, could you stop being so confusing?"

"For the love of god, it means you're in_ love_, Schwachkopf!" A second voice piped up loudly. Spain jumped slightly and looked up at Prussia, who looked livid. "I mean, mein _Gott_ how much move _obvious _could you _be_ about it! You're always staring at him with that stupid, love-sick-puppy face and you practically stalk the kid wherever he goes! You. Love. Him."

Spain stared at him. He opened his mouth. Then closed it. Finally he mumbled, "W-What?"

Prussia rubbed his eye. "And people keep saying I'm the dumb one…" he yawned and leaned back.

Spain stared at him for a moment. _I…I what?_ He turned away, staring at the ceiling. _I…I __what__? _He shut his eyes tightly, thinking hard. About Romano, and how cute his face got every time he blushed. About that weightless feeling Spain felt every time Romano smiled.

About that pounding in Spain's chest every time their eyes met…

…

"…oh my god…"

Spain looked up at the other two. "I…I-I love Romano," he whispered, eyes wide.

Prussia groaned. "Wow, amazing. You are a genius." He gave a weak applause.

"I-I…I am in love with Romano!" He repeated. "O-Oh, my…holy…I am…" He grabbed France by the shoulders. "I love Romano!" He shouted, shaking him back and forth.

France grabbed his arm. "Oui, yes, okay, you are in love, yes, we've established zat, stop shaking me." He pushed him back slightly.

Spain was grinning ear to ear. Then he froze. His face fell. "But…" he let go and fell back onto the bed. "But Romano hates me."

France looked at him for a second. Then he smiled at him. "Well, we'll 'ave to fix zat, won't we~!"

…

Romano sat at the kitchen table, stuffing tomatoes into his mouth. He stared blankly at the table. He still felt terrible. His eyes were probably puffy and bloodshot by now (not from crying, mind you), and his head was pounding like there was an anvil inside (probably just the result of allergies, of course).

In his depressed state, even the tomatoes, a vibrant and juicy color of red, tasted like crap. "Damn it," he mumbled, dropping the tomato back onto the plate. "Hey Potato Bastard, did you touch these? They taste like shit."

Germany looked at him. "Why would it matter if I—?"

"They taste HORRIBLE! And they're tomatoes!" He threw the tomato at Germany, who had grown used to this treatment and ducked. Of course, Italy, who was standing behind him, had no such luck.

"Ve!" He wiped the tomato off of his face. "It tastes okay to me!"

"Shut up!" Romano threw the plate at him. Italy managed to duck this time.

"Wah, w-why are you so mad Romano?" Italy stammered.

Germany glanced down at his book. "Don't worry too much about it," he told Italy. "It says here that feeling angry is a perfectly natural part of going through any tough break-up—"

"WE WERE NEVER DATING YOU STUPID PATHETIC ASSHOLE!" Romano screamed.

Germany flinched. "E-Err, right, ja, I mean, uh…" He looked back down to see if his book had any suggestions of what to say.

Italy decided to help him out. Unfortunately. "Ve~ Don't worry Romano, I'm sure Spain will come back and then the two of you can start going out again and—"

Romano punched Italy in the face. Italy yelped and stumbled back. "W-Wah, Romano, w-why did you do that?" He sniffled. "Why—?"

"S-Shut up," Romano spat, trying to keep the tears filling his eyes from showing. "Y-You moron, we were never…" Romano trailed off. He sat back down. "J-Just leave me alone."

Italy pouted. He looked over at Germany. "Germany, does your funny book say anything to cheer him up?"

Germany frowned at him. "I'll have you know that this is an extremely informative—"

"Germany…"

Germany sighed and looked back down at the book. "Let's see…it says after any tough break-up—err, uh, argument between platonic friends, it is important to utilize your other friends as a support system, to help you through your times of need. Also, you probably shouldn't punch any of them…" He added quietly.

Romano looked up at him. Then he started laughing. Germany blinked. "U-Uh, it wasn't funny—"

Romano ignored him. "Perfect!" He shouted. "That's it! I'll just hang out with some of my other friends! That'll show that stupid tomato-eating-shit that I don't need him! Ha!" He whipped out his phone.

_Contacts:_

_Spain_

_Veneziano_

_Spain :)_

_Potato (for emergencies and/or prank calls)_

_Boss Spain_

_Police_

_Mafia (You currently owe €100,000)_

_Look Romano, I added my number to your phone a few times! Now you won't forget to say hi to me, right~? -Boss_

Romano stared at the list for a moment. Then he shut his phone. "…oh yeah…" he mumbled.

Italy hugged him. "Don't worry Romano! I'll be your friend!" He assured him.

Romano shoved him roughly away. "Idiot. You don't count. Go away." He buried his face in his hands.

Italy thought for a second. "Oh, Germany can be your friend~!"

Germany stiffened. "U-Uh, Italy I highly doubt that is a plausible idea."

Italy stared at him. "W-What? Why not?"

Germany sighed. "I doubt that Romano wants me as a friend—"

"That's a great idea, Veneziano."

Germany and Italy froze. They both looked over at the darker haired Italian, a strange, cold smirk slowly spreading across his face. "Yeah, that sounds like a great idea."

Italy and Germany stared at him. Then Italy smiled. "Really? Yay! Germany and Romano are finally gonna be friends! This is so great~!" He hugged the both of them. "We should celebrate with pasta!"

Germany stared at Romano. "…um, what're you talking about…?"

Romano just smirked back at him. "Come on, _'new friend,'_ why don't we go play for a bit? While Veneziano makes some pasta or something." His smile seemed to get bigger.

Germany gulped. "Uh, Italy, I really think this isn't a good—"

"I'll start making the pasta sauce!" Italy skipped happily into the next room.

Germany watched him go. He turned toward Romano. "Uh, okay, you hate me. What exactly are you talking about with us being, erm, 'friends'?"

Romano leaned back. "What, can't I just want to make a new 'friend'? Besides, _pal,_ you see, friends… Well, the best thing about them is they do things for one another!"

Germany blinked. "They…uh, what?" He scratched the back of his head. "No thank you, I think I'd prefer life." He turned quickly.

Romano leaned back in his chair, propping his feet up on the table. "How sad," he replied. "I mean, poor Veneziano was just getting sooo exited…"

Germany paused. "Wha—?"

"And, I mean, what's he going to think what his 'wonderful boyfriend' doesn't want to help his poor, lonely older brother in his time of need?" He added, smirk just growing with each word. "I'm sure he'll be heartbroken." He shrugged. "Well, have fun with that argument."

Germany blinked. _Oh Gott…_ He glanced over toward the kitchen, where Italy was happily humming some ridiculous tune. He grimaced. _Scheiße… _"U-Um…oh Gott, this is going to end badly, isn't it…"

Romano just smirked back at him.

* * *

><p><em>Well, it seems that Romano has found a way to cheer himself up! Poor Germany... <em>_I think I might have fun with this next chapter~_

_Now I just need to get over my cold._


	7. Running Out of Letters

Germany and Romano stood silently outside of the house. Germany looked uncomfortably over at the smaller Italian next to him. There was a nerve-racking gleam in Romano's eyes. Germany glanced longingly back at the house. "Listen, uh, Romano, I understand that you'd be angry but—"

"Hey potato ba—I mean, _buddy_, you wanna play a game?"

Germany blinked. Then he sighed. "Um, no, not in particular—"

"Come on, _friend_, why don't we play a game?" He roughly grabbed Germany's wrist and started dragging him off. Germany could've probably just shoved him off, but since Italy would've gotten upset he decided to just follow and hope for the best. _Oh Gott…_

After a bit of walking, Romano pulled an apple out of his pocket. "Let's play a game," he said again, tugging Germany's arm's and jerking him down so he was low enough to put the apple on his head. "It's called 'shoot the potato'."

"But this is an apple—"

_**BANG**_

Germany yelped and ducked, as the apple seemed to explode off of his head. He looked up at Romano, who was holding something resembling a gun. "U-Uh, nice shot…" he murmured weakly.

"Shut up idiot, you made me miss."

Germany quickly wrestled the gun away from Romano, opening it and removing the bullets as quickly as possible. "J-Ja, right, why don't we play a different game?" He suggested quickly. "A-A different game…"

Romano thought for a second. "Nah, I don't wanna play shitty games anymore. How about we take a drive?"

Germany gulped.

…

The Bad Touch Trio were standing in a small floral shop. There were flowers as far as the eye could see. Daisies and roses and lilies row by row. Of course, France was enjoying himself immensely. Especially when a pretty clerk asked them to either buy something or leave.

France handed Spain another bouquet of flower off of the shelf. They'd been looking for what felt like hours. This one was mostly large, red roses. "Zis one!" France finally decided, a triumphant smile on his face. "Zis one is perfect~!" He patted Spain's shoulder. "What could be better than a bouquet of roses?"

Spain glanced down at the flowers. "Uh, gracias," Spain said. "But what am I supposed to do again…?"

France sighed. "Well, you need to give 'im ze flowers! And be sure to speak clearly when you apologize, that is ze most important part!"

Prussia glanced up from the oddly colored Venus Fly Trap he'd found in the back of the store. "And compliment him a ton, that always helps."

Spain nodded. "Okay, give him the flowers, apologize, and compliment him. Or…" he thought for a second, "or do I compliment him first? Then give him the flowers and…no, wait, that would be all wrong. I should give him the flowers, compliment him, then, uh…oh, apologize, because that's most important!"

France and Spain sent each other worried looks. "Um, oui, zat is ze important part," France repeated. "Spain, you need to do zis right. It is important."

Spain nodded again. "Important. Right. Don't worry, I can do this!" He smiled at them. "…so do I compliment him first?"

France and Prussia both took a deep breath.

…

Romano sighed. "Well that was dumb," he said calmly stepping out of his red sports car. Germany pitched sideways out of the passenger side, landing face first on the dirt. Romano glared at him. "Hey _amico_, let's go do something else."

Germany shakily got to his feet. "Y-You know, isn't it your siesta time?" He asked weakly. "Ja, go take your siesta. Y-You like siestas right?"

Romano looked at him with an annoyed look. "It's not even close to siesta time."

Germany groaned. "Oh come on, when the hell is your siesta anyway?"

Romano smirked at him. "Maybe I won't even take one today," he replied. "I'm having so much fun."

Germany grimaced. "Oh. Right," he sighed slowly.

Romano thought for a second, and pulled a small pocket knife out of his pocket. "Hey, I just thought of another game."

Germany inhaled deeply. "Have you now."

"Yeah," the devilish smile on his face seemed to grow. "Alright then, _buddy_, close your eyes for a second."

Germany glared at him. "Nein, this is getting out of hand. Listen Romano, as much as I'd like to see what my insides look like—"

Romano suddenly stiffened, eyes widening. Germany paused. "Huh? Romano?" He asked slowly. "What're you—?"

Romano grabbed his arm and dragged him behind a nearby tree. Germany yelped. "A-Ack! W-What kind of game is this? Romano, what on earth are you—"

"Romano~!"

Germany stopped. He turned and peaked out from behind the tree. Spain, France, and Prussia were striding by, looking around. Spain was smiling and calling Romano's name, some flowers hidden (badly) behind his back. "Romano! Where are you?" He glanced around. "You sure you saw him?"

Prussia nodded, looking around. "Ja, I could've sworn I did. He was over here, talking to my bruder."

Spain laughed. "Romano? Talking with Germany? I think you're still drunk, amigo!"

Prussia scowled. "Hey, I haven't drank anything for at least an hour!"

"An hour?" France repeated skeptically.

"Give or take a…a while. Why?"

The three of them continued past Germany and Romano's hiding place, still chatting about Prussia's drinking habits. Germany frowned. He glanced down at the Italian standing next to him. Romano was staring at the ground, his jaws clenched tightly. Maybe Germany was imagining it, but at that moment, Romano's resemblance to his brother was undeniable. They looked the same when they were close to tears.

Germany glanced away. Something about those Italians and tears always seemed to get to him. He gave Romano a weak pat on the shoulder. "Uh, I don't really know what happened, but don't worry too much about it…"

Romano elbowed Germany in the stomach as hard as he could. Germany grunted and stepped back. "Bastard!" Romano screamed. "Get the f*ck off of me! I don't need any of your worthless pity! You're a pathetic piece of shit!"

Germany sighed. Brotherly resemblance over. "Right sorry—"

"Y-You know what?" Romano hissed. "How about we play _another_ game."

Germany groaned. It seemed that seeing Spain had just incensed him more. "Romano, if you'd just calm down for a little—"

"Why don't we go play near that cliff over there? Yeah, that sounds fun." Romano grabbed Germany's wrist tightly and dragged him sideways. "Let's go see that cliff."

Germany gritted his teeth. Then he yanked his hand away. Romano yelped and fell to the ground. He looked up. "Hey!" He yelled. "What the hell is your problem—?"

""What's _my_ problem?" Germany practically screamed, eyes flashing. Romano shrunk down slightly, startled. "What the hell is _your _problem? You're the one that's been dragging me around for the past several hours, just going out of your way to try to make my life hell, and you think I'm the one with the problem? Why? What the hell are you accomplishing with this? Tell me Romano, does this make you feel better? I have absolutely no idea what the hell is your problem is, or what Spain did to upset you, but whatever it is, _I'm sure you deserved it_!"

There was a long silence. Romano stared up at him. Shaking slightly, he stood up. "…w-well…y-you…" He stood there for a moment. "I-I…" He looked away. Then he turned. "Fine. Go away. S-Stupid bastard." He stormed off quickly.

Germany sighed. That probably wasn't a good idea…

…

Romano walked for maybe fifteen minutes before he started slowing down, until he came to a stop in the middle of town. There were people walking slowly by, none of them bothering to look up at the lone boy close to tears standing in the street. He angrily wiped his eyes with his sleeve. "Stupid bastards. All of them. I hate them."

He just stood there for a few minutes, trying to clear his head. Which was difficult with crowds of people shoving their way past you. He could've laughed at how ironically alone he felt if he'd felt up to the task, but instead, he just started roughly pushing through.

His head felt light. He really just wanted to go home and curl up for a while longer. To sleep, and sleep, and never have to wake up.

He sat down on a nearby bench.

Hell, there wasn't even a point for going home. He could just curl up here, crawl into some godforsaken gutter and never be heard from again. It wouldn't make a difference, would it? Who would even bother looking for him? Not Veneziano. Not Germany.

Certainly not Spain…

Romano slowly shut his eyes.

…

"Bonjour~!"

Two sets of hands grabbed his arms. Romano yelped and jerked awake from his siesta. France and Prussia smiled down at him, pulling him up off the bench. "We've been looking _everywhere_ for you!" France chided with a laugh, patting Romano's shoulder.

Romano stared at them for a second, still confused and groggy from his nap. Then he snapped out of it. "What the hell are you doing?" He screamed, trying frantically to squirm out of their grip. "Let go of me! Bastards!"

France patted his head. "Now why would we do zat~?" He replied. Prussia laughed. The two continued dragging him down the street. It was practically empty now that most people would be taking a siesta.

"Get the hell off of me you bastards!" Romano shouted again.

Prussia shrugged. "Okay, since you asked politely." He and France shoved him forward. Romano cried out and stumbled forward. And he collided against someone's chest.

Romano stood there stiffly for a second. Then he slowly looked up. Two twinkling green eyes were staring down at him.

"Romano!"

Romano jumped back, eyes wide. He tried to back up farther, but the last two thirds of the trio seemed to be blocking his escape. Spain's face fell for a second, but he smiled at the small Italian. "Um, hi Romano! Uh…how've you been?"

Romano felt sick to his stomach. "Shut up," he hissed, hoping the waver in his voice went unnoticed.

Spain frowned for a second. He glanced up at the two standing behind Romano. France motioned him to continue. Prussia gave him an encouraging thumbs up. Spain nodded. "Right! So, uh, first I…" he thought for a moment. "Oh yeah! Romano you look really cute!"

Romano stared at him. Cute. Why did he keep saying things like that? He didn't care. He didn't care about Romano. Romano was nothing more than a plaything to him. He felt like he was drowning. He couldn't breathe.

He tried to back up more. He wanted to just sprint away as fast as he could. He felt France frantically motioning to Spain. Spain looked over, and back down at Romano. He suddenly seemed nervous. "U-Um, right yes, so, um…next I…next I give you flowers… O-Oh yeah!" He pulled the flowers he was holding from behind his back. "Here you go Romano!" He thought for another second.

"Oh! And I'm sorry that I kissed you!"

Romano flinched. He looked up at Spain for a moment. Spain still had that stupid smile on his face. He was…sorry. He was sorry. He was sorry for kissing Romano. Romano's throat seemed to close up.

There was a strangling silence. Spain's face fell slightly, feeling like he'd done something wrong. "Romano? What's wrong? Are you okay?"

"Y-You…y-you know what?" Romano whispered, feeling the tears streaming down his face already. "I'm sorry too." He hugged himself and turned, shoving through the two standing behind him and running as fast as his legs could carry him.

The three just stood there. Spain stared at where Romano had run. He took a few steps and paused. "W…What did I do wrong this time?" He asked his friends softly. Neither of them moved. Spain shut his eyes. "H-He was crying."

France shook his head. "Of course 'e was!" France shouted. "What on earth were you thinking? You can't say somezing like zat! Ugh!" France buried his face in his hands.

Prussia sighed. "Well, I guess we're on to plan ß!"

France glared at him. "Why on earth is it plan ß?"

Prussia rolled his eyes. "'Cause I think we're out of letters from your alphabet."

France sighed. "Fine, fine, we'll call it plan ß. I think we should number our plans from now on."

"Why? There're plenty of other alphabets! We could use one with those funny characters! Those have to have plenty of letters!"

"I don't care!" France turned away toward Spain. "Alright, you definitely need to fix zat last—"

"No."

France and Prussia paused. Prussia walked over quietly. "What do you mean no? Listen, if it's that big of a deal, I'll go along with the numbering thing France—"

"No. I'm done."

France frowned. "What do you mean 'you're done'?"

"I mean I'm done. Finished. I don't want to do this anymore." He looked up at his two friends. There were tears welling in his eyes. "Look where your advice has gotten me. Romano hates me. He's never going to speak to me again. Everything you guys have done has made it worse. I just…I don't care anymore."

France glared at him. "'ow can it not matter to you? You love 'im! That 'as to mean somezing to—"

"Shut up, France, I'm going home."

Spain turned, leaving his two thunderstruck friends staring after him. Prussia spoke up. "So you're just giving up? Just like that? You can't just—"

"_Don't you guys get it?_" Spain snapped, wheeling around. Prussia and France jumped. "Romano hates me! Because you two wanted to help! Where has that gotten us? Ever? I…I'm done seeing that look he always gives me! I'm done with…with his hate. He hates me. I'm done. So are you two. So…" He turned again, ignoring his tears. "So I'm going home."

They stood there a moment longer. Spain slowly started the long walk home.

* * *

><p><em>ß is called an Eszett. It is one of the extra four letters in the German alphabet. In case you cared.<em>

_I think this might actually be close to wrapping up. Sorry it always takes so long everyone._


	8. Just One Last Try

"So what do we do now?"

France looked up at Prussia. For once he'd almost forgotten he was there he was so quiet. Prussia looked back at him. "What do we do now?" he repeated.

France smiled weakly and turned. "What else? We go 'ome."

Prussia furrowed his brows. "Home? So what, are we going to come up with a plan at your house?"

"No. We're going to go to our own 'omes and getting on wiz our lives."

Prussia stared at him. "So…we're giving up too?"

France shrugged. "Spain doesn't need our 'elp. What's ze point?"

Prussia scowled at him. "So what? Was all that crap about 'true love' just pointless shit?" Prussia exhaled sharply. "And for a minute I believed you." Prussia shook his head. "Believing something so stupid…"

France paused. "Stupid? Prussia, 'ow could you same zat? Love is—"

"—pointless," Prussia interrupted, crossing his arms. "If we don't try to help Spain out, it's just pointless, isn't it?"

France stood there for a moment, thinking about that statement. He looked over at Prussia, who was smirking slightly. "I mean," Prussia added, "if _you're_ giving up so easily…"

France couldn't help but smirk back slightly. "Sometimes I wonder what is in zat head of yours." He shook his head. "But I suppose zere must be _somezing_ in zere."

"Of course. It's full of pure awesome."

…

Romano was lying on his stomach, his head buried in a pillow. He felt sick. Angry. He just wanted to curl up and die. He clenched his teeth tightly, trying to hold in a small sob.

_Why are you crying Romano?_ Spain's voice rang in his ears, happy, kind, they way he always sounded._ Here, I know something that could cheer you up! Fusosososo~! Fusososo—_

Romano covered his ears, burying his face deeper into the pillow. "GODDAMNIT!" He screamed. He felt a sob escape his lips. "…damn it…" he whispered.

The door creaked open. Romano didn't bother looking up. "What do you want?" He murmured, his voice hoarse.

Germany paused. "Err, I was just going to apologize and…and, well, ja. I'm sorry." He paused again. Romano didn't move. Germany coughed uncomfortably. "…listen, I doubt that lying on your bed is going to help, so…so, uh, you're brother is making pasta. So, uh, get up."

Romano didn't answer. What was the point? Germany stood there for another minute, wondering what he should do. Finally he turned and left, trying to make as little noise as possible.

Romano didn't move. Shut his eyes and let himself lose consciousness.

…

Spain closed his eyes, trying to keep tears from streaming down his face. He'd locked himself in his room as soon as he'd returned home. He hadn't even gotten any food. He just flopped onto his bed.

He felt weirdly numb. Why was that?

He lay there. And lay there. Hours later, he was still lying there. And staring at the wall. He couldn't help but wonder, what was Romano doing? Was he still upset? Was he crying? Just thinking about it made his chest hurt.

Romano…he'd been crying. Spain had made Romano cry. _Ugh, why am I so STUPID? _He thought bitterly. He ran his fingers through his hair. _Why?_

He sighed and pulled the pillow over his head. He could hear his phone ringing softly from nearby. It was probably one of his friends. He didn't bother picking up. He just wanted to sleep for a while…

…

Prussia and France were sitting in Prussia's room (otherwise known as Germany's basement). Prussia was thinking as hard as he could, drinking a large beer and staring at his cell phone with a scowl. France was looking nervously around the room, half expecting some sort of animal to crawl out of the mountains of clothes piled on the ground.

"Um, so…" France began, tentatively clearing off an old chair and sitting, "where is your brother?"

"I don't know. Probably at Italy's," he replied. "So you have any ideas? He's not answering his phone…"

France frowned at him. "You're supposed to be coming up with ideas too."

"I get my best ideas when drunk."

"You get your _worst_ ideas when drunk," France corrected dryly. He sighed. "Do you think we're coming at zis the wrong way?"

"Coming at what?" Prussia asked, finishing off his beer.

France rolled his eyes. "Zis! All of zis! I mean…Spain and Romano love each other, right?"

"Why're you asking me? I thought you knew."

France ignored him. "So…if we could just get zem to talk to each other…"

Prussia laughed. "Scheiße, France, what the hell do you think we've been doing?" He sat up, stretching slightly. "The only way we're going to get those two to actually talk is if we lock them in a closet together or something."

France froze. Then a devious smile slowly spread across his face. Prussia glanced over at him. He frowned slightly. "Uh…France…?"

…

"Romano, eat your pasta!" Italy begged weakly, tears in the corner of his eyes. "Please Romano? Pretty please?"

"I'm not hungry," Romano answered softly, staring down at the large, heaping plate that his brother had being forcing at him for the past several minutes.

Italy pushed it closer to him. "Romanoooo!" He whined. "It's not good to not eat! Especially pasta! You love pasta! Please eat, Romano, you're starting to scare me!" He looked even closer to tears.

Romano ignored him, pushing the food away. "Can I go back to bed?"

Germany coughed. "Err, I'm going to have to have to agree with Italy—"

Romano glared at him and Germany coughed again, glancing away. Romano just stood to his feet. "I'm going back to bed."

Italy grabbed his arm, pulling him back to the chair. "Romano, please just eat a little bit! It's dinner time! You've barely eaten all day!" Italy bit his lower lip. "I don't want you getting sick or anything big brother…"

Romano just glared weakly at him. "Why does it matter?" He replied softly. "Just leave me alone…"

_**Crash**_

There was a loud smashing noise, as if a cannon had crashed through the roof. All three of them jumped. Germany looked around. "What the—?"

There was another crash. And suddenly, something white crashed through the ceiling.

Prussia sat up with a dazed look, coughing. He shook the debris out of his hair and hopped to his feet. "Hey guys! Hope you don't mind, I'm gonna borrow this for a bit!" He grabbed Romano's arm and hoisted him to his feet.

"H-Huh?"

"Ve~ Hi Prussia!"

"Bruder, what the hell are you doing?" Germany snapped.

Prussia grinned at him. "Plan Ü, arschloch!" He shouted, sprinting past, dragging Romano behind him.

France suddenly ran past them, after Prussia. "Ze front door was open you idiot!" He shouted angrily. "Prussia!"

They both ran out the door. Germany and Italy stood there for a minute, stunned.

"…Germany?"

"Ja?"

"Was that Prussia and big brother France?"

"Ja."

"…"

"…"

"I hope they have fun!"

Germany rolled his eyes.

…

"You bastards! Get off of me!" Romano screamed as loud as he could, squirming violently and kicking out at the two bastards dragging him out of the house.

Prussia laughed. "You really need to stop saying that!" He tossed the Italian into the car. Romano hit the leather seats with a small squeak and scrambled right side up. Before he could make a break for it, Prussia was pushing a cannon through the door. "I knew this was a good idea~! Kesesese!"

France rolled his eyes, climbing into the driver's seat. "Oui, a 'good idea'," He replied sarcastically. "Just get in ze car."

Prussia hopped in. "Alright, let's get going!"

The car took off. Romano fell backward against the seat, staring around wildly. "You crazy bastards!" He shouted.

France and Prussia seemed to be ignoring him. "So, France, when do you think we'll get there?" Prussia asked, chugging another beer and fixing his seat so it leaned back.

"G-Going where?" Romano yelled.

France spoke up. "Oh, it'll probably much later in the day. It will 'ave to be night time by zen, won't it?"

"Going where?" Romano shouted louder.

"Oh, ja, probably." Prussia yawned, folding his hands behind his head. "Jeez, this is going to take forev—"

Romano grabbed his throat. "WHERE THE HELL ARE WE GOING?"

Prussia yelped and leapt forward, out of the Italian's grip. He coughed, rubbing his throat for a minute. Then he turned toward Romano, pretending like he'd just noticed him. "Oh, hallo Romano! How're you doing?"

"Let me out!" Romano hissed, diving at the nearest door.

Prussia just shook his head. "Oh Romano, are you really going to try leaving a moving vehicle? Well, I mean, not that you can unlock the door, but still!"

Romano glared back up at him. "Where the hell are we going?" He snapped again, realizing he couldn't get the door open.

France chuckled at this. "Oh come on, mon ami, where do you think we're going?"

Romano gave him a blank look. Then he froze. "…we're…" He blanched. "I… DAMN IT LET ME OUT OF HERE! I SWEAR TO GOD!" He started banging his fist against the door. Then he grimaced, realizing that, well, that hurt. "S-Shit!" He turned toward them. "If we're going to Spain's—"

"Oh, wow, he does have a brain," Prussia mumbled.

France yawned. "Who would've thought?" He replied.

Romano glared at them. "I don't want to see that pathetic bastard!"

France's hands tightened around the wheel. "And why is zat?" He asked, frowning. "Maybe if you could just listen to what 'e 'as to say…"

Romano glared at him. "I don't want to hear what that piece of shit has to say! He is stupid and pathetic and I never want to see him again!" He paused. "And what the hell is wrong with you guys? Are you both insane? Why the hell do you two even care?"

"Because we're Spain's friends," Prussia replied. "And, well, we're trying to help him. And, to be honest, we're trying to help you too."

"Why? And how do you think you're doing that?" Romano asked dryly.

"You love 'im."

Romano stiffened, hearing France speak. "W-What?" He stammered, feeling his face heating up already. He swallowed slightly. "I-I…No I don't! No way in hell!"

Prussia laughed. "Kesesese~! You sure about that?" He asked.

"Yes!" Romano snapped.

"Positive?"

"_Yes, I am!_"

"Come on, Romano, are you completely—?"

"_**I DON'T KNOW!**_" He screamed.

There was a pause. France and Prussia both glanced back at the confused Italian sitting in the back. He was staring at the floor, jaw clenched and close to tears. He looked lost, scared. Neither of them said anything. They decided to drive the rest of the way in silence.

…

A while later, they were parked in front of the gigantic mansion that Spain called home. Romano stared up at it, blanching. "I-I'm not going in there," he said slowly, rooted to the spot.

Prussia and France stood next to him. "Of course you're not," they replied. They both pushed him forward, identical smirks on their faces.

Romano started trying to dig his feet into the dirt, trying to slow them down. "Get off," he protested. "I'm not doing this!"

"Of course not," they replied again, pulling him through the doorway.

"Stop doing that!" Romano yelled, struggling frantically. "Let go of me! I hate you! Bastards! Chigi!" He started kicking at them again, wishing someone would help him. "I don't want to talk to him! I-I _can't _talk to him! Leave me alone!"

They pulled him up the stairs. "Stop squirming," Prussia told him. "I think Spain might get pissed off if you fall down the stairs."

Romano was panicking. "N-NO! GET OFF! I CAN'T DO THIS!"

France shook his head, walking over to Spain's bedroom door. He knocked lightly. "Bonjour? Is anyone zere?" Without waiting for an answer, he pulled a key out of his pocket. With a flourish, he unlocked the door and pulled it open. "Good luck!" He told Romano brightly.

"I-I can't—"

Prussia shoved him inside.

* * *

><p><em>Here we go, chapter eight! I think it's getting close to ending. Maybe just another chapter or two. Thank you all for your comments!<em>


	9. Love and Hate and Everything in Between

The door slammed shut behind Romano. He yelped and spun around. "You bastards!" He screamed. "Let me out!"

He could hear them snickering outside. But then they were gone. It was quiet.

Romano stood there, wide-eyed. "…h…h-hey…" he stammered slowly. "…HEY!" He started pounding on the door. "YOU BASTARDS! OPEN THE DAMN DOOR! OPEN IT! I SWEAR TO GOD!"

There was an eerie silence on the other side of the door. Romano stood there. Nothing happened. They were gone. He was…alone.

He swallowed nervously. He was in Spain's room.

…shit…

He closed his eyes tightly. He was alone. With Spain. He swallowed, his breath feeling shallow. He turned around slowly, cracking his eyes open. It was a fairly large room. There was old, ornate wooden furniture. Spain had hardly bothered to redecorate his room since the days he was Romano's guardian.

Romano could see himself as a kid, nervously sneaking in to wake the idiot up. To ask if he could stay for a while. Or the night.

_And Spain would always smile sleepily at him. And sit up to pick the little boy up. And hold him close, and tell him that everything was okay. That there was nothing to be afraid of. That he would protect him. And Romano would always drift off to sleep…_

Romano shook his head furiously. He started frantically scanning the room again. There were old desks and lamps and all kinds of useless things the moron would hold onto. There was even an old fish tank on a table, with a small turtle tucked into its shell. Romano scowled at it and glanced away.

The room was silent. Well, almost silent. He could hear someone's soft breathing, coming from the large bed on the opposite side of the room. He crept forward, silently, softly. _W…What am I supposed to say to him? _He wondered frantically, his heart pounding loudly in his ears. _What do I do?_ He took a deep breath.

"…h-hey…hey Spain…" He whispered, finding that was as loud as he could farce himself. "S-Spain…h-hey, listen, I—"

Spain gave a loud snore.

Romano froze. "…S-Spain?" Spain didn't answer. "Spain?" Still nothing. Romano glared at him. "You…You stupid bastard! Are you seriously asleep you idiot?"

Spain mumbled something in his sleep and rolled over. Romano glared at him. But he felt himself relaxing slightly as he stared at Spain. His face looked so calm in his sleep. For once he wasn't smiling that goofy smile of his. His face was just…serene…

Romano slowly sat down on the edge of the bed his eyes fixed on that beautiful face. "You…you're a bastard, you know that?" He mumbled. "A stupid…idiotic…" He trailed off, turning away and staring off into space.

"…why?" Romano asked quietly. "Why do you…do this to me? Why do I always…?" He stopped. Then he buried his face in his hands. "…w-why?" He whispered, feeling himself start to shake. "Why does this keep happening to me? W-What the hell is wrong with me? E-Every time I…I see you and…and I…I just…I can't…this damn pounding in my chest and…and it…doesn't matter does it?" He felt a soft sob escape. "You don't…you don't…love…"

"R-Romano?"

Romano stiffened, his blood suddenly ice. Slowly, he turned around.

Spain stared up at him, wide-eyed. For once, his face was bright red. "R…Romano?" He asked again, as if he couldn't believe that he was actually there. He tentatively reached his hand out, brushing his fingertips against the Italian's cheek.

Romano stared at him. Then he screamed.

"Y-YOU STUPID BASTARD!" He screeched, leaping off of the bed and stumbling backward. He smashed into a table and tumbled backward, hitting the ground hard. He yelped.

Spain was on his feet. "Romano—"

"NO! GET AWAY FROM ME!" Romano screamed, scrambling back to his feet and backing against the wall. "LEAVE ME ALONE! I HATE YOU!"

"Romano, wait, please, I need to—"

"NO!" Romano bellowed, tears still streaming down his face. "NO! NO _NO_ _**NO**_! GO AWAY! DAMN IT YOU WORTHLESS—"

Spain grabbed his arms and slammed him against the wall. "_ROMANO!_"

Romano froze, his mouth still hanging open. Spain stared at him, looking almost as surprised as Romano felt. "I-I'm sorry Romano, I…I just…" He loosened his grip, letting his hands rest on Romano's arms. "P-Please stop."

Romano closed his mouth quickly. "G-Get off of me," he protested weakly, trying to push Spain back. "…bastard…I…"

Spain leaned closer. "Romano…" he whispered. Romano stopped breathing. "Escúchame, Romano, por favor. Sólo por un momento. Only for a moment…"

Romano found his voice again. "I-I don't have to listen to you, bastard," Romano spat back. "Especially when you're rambling in Spanish—"

Spain's hand pressed against his cheek. Romano glared and tried to push him off. "A-And will you stop doing that?" He snapped.

"Romano…" Spain murmured. "I…I'm so sorry…"

Romano cringed. It was like another stab to the heart. He shoved Spain backward. "Yeah, you mentioned that," he hissed back venomously.

Spain shook his head. "Not for kissing you."

Romano paused. He stared at Spain, confused. "You're…not?"

Spain smiled at him. "Nope," he replied, walking back over. "I'm just sorry for being so stupid about it!" His hands came up to Romano's shoulders, gently tugging him forward. Romano stiffened looking down at his hands.

"W-What're you—?"

Spain leaned in close, cutting him off. Romano felt his face catching fire. Spain smiled at him. "So…as an apology…"

And suddenly, his lips were against Romano's.

Romano couldn't think. He couldn't breathe. He couldn't move. Everything had gone blank. All he could think about was the feel of Spain's lips, melding against his own. And Spain's arms, winding themselves around his waist. And his own heart pounding out of his chest.

Spain's hands drifted higher, gently running his hands through Romano's hair and across his back. Romano mewled slightly, leaning closer, closing his eyes tightly, never wanting this moment to end—

_I was just trying to help you, _Spain's voice echoed in his head._ You know, demonstrating…_

Romano froze. Then he shoved Spain backward. Spain stumbled back, startled, face just as red as Romano's. "R-Romano?"

"GET AWAY FROM ME!" Romano yelled. He ran, shoving past Spain and to the door. "LET ME OUT OF HERE! I CAN'T DO THIS! G*DDAMNIT!" He smashed his fist against the door. "L-Let me out…" He pressed his forehead to the door. His knees felt weak, and he slid down. "S-Shit."

"Romano!" Span sprinted over and bent down next to him. "Romano, what's wrong? I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make you upset, por favor, don't cry, I'm so sorry!" He wrapped his arms around the Italian's slim shoulders, pulling him against his chest. "I'm sorry…"

Romano flinched and glared up at him. "Why do you keep doing this? It…I don't need help. I…I'm…None of this is real. You just…you don't care. This is just some sort of stupid joke to you."

"Romano, that's not true!" Spain protested.

Romano tried to shove him off, yelling furiously in Italian. "Stai zitto, bastardo! Ti odio! Cazzo—"

"Romano, I love you!"

Romano froze. Blinking, he slowly looked up at the bright green eyes staring down at him. "W…What did you say?" He murmured softly.

"Romano…" Spain reached up, tangling his fingers into Romano's hair. Pulling him closer, he rested his forehead against Romano's. "Romano, I love you. I'm…sorry I didn't realize it earlier. But this isn't a joke to me. Not at all." He smiled weakly at him. "So…so don't be upset, alright mi tomate?"

Romano stared blankly at him for a moment, his eyes huge. He looked away. His stomach had twisted into a knot. "You…You what?" He repeated. He looked back up at Spain. "Y-You…" He paused. Spain's eyes were boring into his, and Romano turned away, face getting even redder. "N…N-No that's not right."

It was Spain who looked confused this time. "Huh? Why?" He asked, tilting his head.

Romano shook his head. "That's not right…I can't…you don't…" He shook his head. "Why would you like me? I mean I…I'm…" He focused his eyes on the floor. "I'm not…cute or…sweet or…nice or anything. I'm clumsy and stupid and…and…"

Spain laughed. "W-What?" Romano glared up at him, and Spain paused, still smiling at him. "Romano, what are you talking about? You're the most adorable person I've ever met!" He kissed Romano's cheek, smiling wider as Romano's cheeks flushed red.

Romano pulled away slightly. "You…You're making fun of me," he decided. "You just like making fun of me. That's all there is."

Spain sighed. "Come on, you know that's not true Romano!" He insisted, hugging the brunette closer.

"Oh yeah? Well…w-well prove it!"

Spain perked up. No sooner were those words out of Romano's mouth than he realized he'd just made a mistake. "O-Oh, shit—I mean—I didn't—this—y-you know what I—"

Spain cupped his cheeks in his hands and kissed him. Romano yelped, startled. It only lasted for a second this time, before Spain pulled back. "Okay! I'll prove it~!"

Romano gaped at him. Then he started flailing about in Spain's arms. "No! That's not what I—get off!" He shouted louder as Spain drew him even closer. "Damn it Spain I—_Chigi!_" He gave a loud squeak as Spain kissed his neck.

"Romano, I love you," Spain replied against Romano's neck. "I love you and I always will."

Romano was panicking by this point. "S-Spain get off of me! Right now! I-I mean it! G-Get the hell off of me!" Spain kept kissing his neck and cheeks, just grinning happily. "Spain! SPAIN!"

Spain looked up sweetly at him. "What about you, mi querido?"

Romano blinked. "W-What about me?" He snapped.

"Do you love me, Romano?"

Romano bristled slightly. "What?"

"Do you love—?"

"YEAH I HEARD YOU THE FIRST TIME!" Romano spat, face burning. He looked away. "And I…I mean…I just…f*ck you!"

Spain smiled. "Okay~!" He laughed, nuzzling Romano's face.

"YOU SON OF A BITCH!"

Spain pouted slightly. "B-But Romano, it was your idea—"

"I HATE YOU!"

Spain flinched. There was a pause, and he turned away. "O-Oh…" he mumbled after a second. "E-Err, yeah, well I…r-right…" Spain pulled back, leaving Romano sitting on the floor. "…o-okay…I…I'm sorry…"

Romano felt himself deflating slightly as Spain just kind of slid back to the other side of the room. Romano grimaced. "W…Where are you going, bastard?"

Spain shrugged. "I-I just…I dunno," he replied lamely, sitting on the bed. Romano could almost see the storm cloud over his head.

He sighed, and stood up, walking after him. "B-Bast—U-Um, Spain, uh…" He paused for a moment in front of the bed. "Listen, were you, uh…you were…you were being serious earlier…?" He managed to ask.

Spain looked up at him, eyes welling up slightly with tears. "Of course Romano! I love you! I-I love you so much I—"

Romano quickly pecked a kiss on Spain's cheek.

It was Spain's turn to freeze, his mouth still hanging open. He stared up at the young Italian, stunned. Romano coughed. "E-Err, yeah, don't…don't look too much into that or anything…I-I just…um…" He focused his gaze on the wooden floor. "I-I just…that doesn't mean a-anything so…but don't cry 'cause…w-well…" he crossed his arms. "…bastard," he finished weakly.

Spain stared up at him. Then he smiled. Then he was grinning ear to ear. "ROMANO!" He jumped to his feet and grabbed Romano, pulling him close and kissing him again, harder this time, still somehow managing to smile more than he ever had in his entire life. Romano, letting out a startled squeak, felt himself toppling forward with Spain onto the bed.

…

_It all just felt…perfect…_

* * *

><p>…<p>

* * *

><p>Romano opened his eyes a crack. Hissing slightly at the bright light, he shut them again. "Damn…sunlight…" He groaned slightly. His entire body hurt. What the hell happened…?<p>

Then the night before rushed back to him. He stiffened. Then he shut his eyes tighter. "Shit. That did not happen. This did not happen," he told himself quickly. "I'm going to open my eyes. I'll be back in my own room. Spain is not going to be there. Everything is going to be normal" He waited for a moment, then opened one eye.

He was lying alone in the bed. Romano opened both eyes and looked around, sitting up slowly. "The fu…?" He blinked wearily a few times. Then he flopped back down on the bed. "So…So that was all just a…dream?"

_Tap tap tap_

Romano glanced up at the small green turtle tapping against the glass. He narrowed his eyes. "Why the f*ck is there a turtle in my room—?" Suddenly he yelped and sat up. This wasn't his room. It was Spain's. "Holy mother f*cking shit this isn't a dream," he murmured. He pinched his arm, just for good measure. "Jesus…" He shook his head. "Spain I—"

He turned. The bed was empty.

"…Spain?" Romano glanced around. "S…Spain? Bastard, where the hell…?" He frowned, confused. Spain was gone.

He'd left.

He'd changed his mind.

Romano stared blankly at the bed. Spain had…he'd been there. He had. He'd told Romano he loved him. But did he just leave? Was Romano that horrible? Spain had left him. He'd…he'd…

Romano stood up shakily, flinching slightly. Then he started faltering weakly toward the door, feeling more tears forming in his eyes. He grabbed the door, wrenched it open, and stumbled out.

And into Spain's arms.

They both froze. Spain looked down at him, still looking sleepy and tousled. "Romano! ¡Buenos dias! Err, I mean, buongiorno! I didn't think you'd be up yet. Look I made you some churros! Did you sleep well? I mean, you looked cute when you slept but—" He stopped midsentence. "…Romano, are you crying?"

Romano grabbed his shoulders, burying his face into Spain's chest. "Y-You idiot!" He growled. "You can't just leave me like that…"

Spain blinked. "Even for churros?"

"ESPECIALLY FOR CHURROS!"

"But I got them for you! And I just went downstairs…"

"I don't care if you were only down the f*cking stairs." Romano swallowed nervously, feeling his face already getting warm. "You're just…you're supposed to…You shouldn't just leave like that. J-Just go to hell!"

Spain wrapped an arm around him, leading him down the hallway. "Okay, how about we snuggle and eat churros at the same time! There, see? I made it all better! Right Romano?"

"You're an idiot."

Spain kissed his cheek. "But I'm _your_ idiot! Riiiight~?"

Romano scowled at him. "Shut up." He murmured, looking away so Spain couldn't catch his smile…

* * *

><p><strong>~The End~<strong>

* * *

><p>…<p>

France and Prussia glanced up sleepily from the couch as Romano and Spain passed by. They couldn't help but grin. "We did a good thing, didn't we?" Prussia asked groggily.

France just smiled back. "Oui, we did," he replied. He sat up. "So, did you two 'ave _fun_ last night~!"

"GO TO HELL!"

* * *

><p><em>Well, here it is. The end! :D Hope you guys all liked it! Wow, it was kinda short huh? Well, thank you all so much for your responces!<em>


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